


Sunday Smut Series

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All the Smut, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Harry, Top Louis, basically lots and lots of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: Chapter Summary:For Louis, the answer is always yes.Series Notes:The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today.  This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis.  Enjoy.All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppiestwopoppiesIf the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr.Speaking of ME on tumblr.  Come visit me heretumblr





	1. Yes

**Yes**

It was a little like finally pressing your lips to the fine edge of a china cup filled with dark, aromatic cocoa, swirling with thick promise, a tease to your senses.  The first taste was always rich and bitter, sweet and nearly scalding to the tongue.  Hot, thick heat slipping into your mouth; the taste, smell, feel of it all encompassing.   

That’s what it was, Louis thought, slipping his tongue inside Harry’s body, completely lost in the erotic taste, feel,  _ smell _ of him.  Harry writhed against the mattress, arse up, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push back and completely smother Louis, or if he wanted to bolt forward and escape the clever, clever tongue circling his rim.  Louis grabbed Harry’s firm flesh and held him still.  Harry keened and rutted back on to Louis’ mouth, tongue, his face.  Louis smirked against the hot, wet skin. 

This was them.  Pushing each other, driving one another until it was just too much.  Altogether too much.

One of the things that Louis loved most about Harry,  _ his _ Harry, the Harry no one else got to see or really know, was how he completely lost himself in his pleasure.  Whether he was taking it or giving it, Harry submerged himself in what he liked, what he needed…wanted.  Sometimes it was 19 th century poetry.  Sometimes it was apple spice cake.  Sometimes, like right now, it was having his arse eaten by his husband, his husband of three blink-of-the-eye years…his husband who missed him very, very much when they were apart.

“Fucking hell, Haz,” Louis breathed heavily as he came up for air, “You really…”—hot breath poured out of his mouth as he leaned forward to lick between Harry’s cheeks—earning him an exquisite shudder and moan (beautiful, that was)—“put on some serious muscle.”

Harry’s arms flexed and he gripped the sheets and let out a deep, guttural groan.  “Had to…” he panted, ending in a whine, “filming…”

Louis knew he had been in intense training for months, even before filming had started, but this, this was like  _ seeing _ all of the hard work and time and energy and sweat and fucking  _ hours _ in the gym and away from their home, manifesting itself right here.  Right here in Louis’ hands.  And damn if it wasn’t  _ spectacular _ . 

Louis knew, the moment Harry turned to put his rings on their dresser once he was finally home, for good this time, that he had to get his hands, his mouth, on Harry’s new and improved arse.  The old bum was amazing, a work of art, even, but this one?  Otherworldly.

Diving back in, Louis pointed and twisted his tongue, smashing his face between Harry’s cheeks so he could pull what he was hoping to be the first of at least two orgasms from his beautiful, beautiful husband tonight.  He could feel the rough slide of the denim from Harry’s jeans under his chin and felt his own cock jerk helplessly against the mattress.  Harry moaned wantonly and humped to bedding between his legs, smashing Louis’ face between his cheeks, making Louis moan from the sensation of it. 

Harry was just fucking taking it.  And Louis wanted to give it to him.  All of it. 

This is what Harry did to him.  Rendered him weak, unable to speak, strung out and high on just the way it felt to love him. 

It was so much.  Always so much.

Just before Harry came (for the first of three times, Louis would later boast to himself), he moaned, deep and hoarse, but loud enough for Louis and nearly all of the neighbors to hear, “ _ Love you _ .”

Holding his husband still as he pushed him toward release, tasting home and a thousand tomorrows, Louis thought, “Yes.” 


	2. Wanna See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry really likes when Louis bottoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

“H—Harry!”

Louis’ voice was high and broken.  Harry could hear  _ everything _ in his voice.  The way he was barely holding on...the way his entire voice, body, being…was  _ desperate _ .  It was honestly the best fucking thing in the entire world.

Harry remembered the first time they did it this way, with Louis bottoming.  It was truly one of the most unreal, incredible moments of Harry’s life.  If not  _ the _ most unreal, incredible moment.  Louis was so, so brave, was the thing.  He  _ knew _ how big Harry was, and he had completely psyched himself up to take him, all of him.  Harry had worked him over with four well-lubed, dripping wet fingers and still he wasn’t sure Louis could handle it.  Handle  _ him _ .

Louis had begged him, his own cock impressive in its own right, hanging hot and heavy, leaking from between his thick muscled thighs.  “You sure, babe?  It’s ok if you…if you don’t think…”

“Fuck.  Harry.  If you don’t fucking fuck me right now.  I swear.”  Louis bit out the harsh words but all Harry could hear, could feel, was the incredible arousal that dripped from every single one. 

Harry never wanted to tell Louis no, especially back then.  Louis had Harry wrapped around every one of his talented, sweet little fingers.  So Harry did it.  He fucked Louis.  Slow and steady and then hard and fast.  Fucked him until they both screamed themselves breathless and weary, come drying on the sheets and dripping down Louis’ leg.  That first slide in, Louis on his hands and knees, head hung between his shoulders, Harry shuddering with the effort it took to not just fuck him senseless, had felt like…every single cliché ever written.  Coming home, burning in desire, relief and hot, hot arousal coiling.  It was so much.

Still was.

But this time.  Something was different.  Louis wanted to be on top.  Which, ok.  He never really was a true bottom per se.  Always bossy.  Always in control.  But he said he wanted to see Harry’s big cock going inside of him, wanted to see what it looked like to be split in half by Harry like that.  And Harry, oh god, Harry, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. 

How did it—would it—all fit? 

He knew it did.  Had done it a handful of times since that first time several long months ago on that hot sticky August night in their first apartment together.  But.  Seeing it?  Seeing it was like a whole new experience.

It was muscle memory, really.  Knowing how to fuck into Louis’ hot, tight body.  It came naturally (pun fully intended, Harry grinned, cracking himself up).

“Hey!  What’s so funny?”  Louis interrupted Harry’s inner monologue.

“N—nothing.  Just.”  Harry looked up, into Louis’ piercing cobalt eyes.  Louis stared down at him, frozen.  His mouth hung slightly open, pink carnation lips slightly plump from all of the kissing they did earlier.  His hand squeezed Harry’s cock with a tight, perfect pressure as he poised himself above it.  Harry could fucking feel lube dripping from Louis’ arse on to his cock.

Jesus Christ.

“What?”  Louis’ voice was suddenly softer, reminding Harry of soft cottonwood floating through the air on a summer day.  “What is it?”

“Just,” Harry felt tears crowd the corner of his eyes and he blinked them back quickly.  Louis was so much.  Everything.  “Love you.”

Louis pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s mouth, their lips fitting together like honey sliding into a warm cup of tea.  Harry lost himself for a moment, a tear finally rolling down his cheek.  The feeling of Louis on him, with him,  _ surrounding _ him in this way.  It was a lot.

“Now.  ‘M gonna let you fuck me, yeah?” Louis whispered against Harry’s mouth, the slight rub of whiskers tickling the corner of his top lip.  “And when I finally fit that big fucking cock of yours inside me, I wanna feel you.  Feel all of you.  For days.  Got it?”

Harry blinked open his eyes and watched Louis’ face curve up into a gentle smirk.  Fucking bastard. 

“Yeah.  I got it.”  Harry was surprised to hear just how gruff his voice was.  Louis always affected him like this.  Made him nearly speechless, reduced to panting breaths and wet eyes and this arousal that just filled up every single cell of his being. 

“Good.” Louis said decisively.  And then he started to slide down Harry’s very ready, very hard dick.

“Fucking Christ,” Harry groaned, feeling the pressure of Louis’ rim as it pulsed around his cock head.   He leaned forward just enough to see around the curve of Louis’ smooth hip as Louis contorted his body just enough to see behind himself too.  And, oh fucking hell, it was positively… _ pornographic _ .

“H—Haz.  Spread…spread me open,” Louis cried out as the entire head slipped inside his body.  Harry squeezed his eyes shut, pleasedon’tcome, pleasedon’tcome, pleasedon’tcome on repeat in his brain.

Harry gripped Louis’ arse with firm hands and pulled him apart, pulling a deep, husky groan from Louis’ body.  “ _ God _ ,” Louis’ hand dropped on top of Harry’s right one, their fingers twisting together as they pulled him open to make more room, and to allow them to both see more.

“F—feels so good.   _ Louis _ .” And it did, was the thing.  Impossibly tight.  So fucking hot.  Harry wished there was a word for this, a phrase or something to describe how incredibly good it felt to fuck Louis like this.  There wasn’t though.  Harry was pretty sure that the English language, or any other one of the million languages on Earth or the universe, didn’t have a way to describe  _ this _ .

Louis moaned, high and breathy, and slid all the way down in one slow, tortured movement, his back arched deliciously and his strong thighs controlled the entire thing.  Harry couldn’t stop watching.  Was mesmerized by the way it looked to be swallowed up inside of Louis like this.  Harry’s legs shook with the effort it was taking to not thrust up hard and deep.  He could feel the silky skin of Louis’ bum resting on his thighs and the way his balls tightened up from the feeling of being buried so deep inside Louis’ arse. 

Louis curved back around so that his chest was pressed to Harry’s.  Harry could feel the slick slide of sweat and warmth and the way Louis’ heart was beating wilding beneath his skin.  He let go of his bum and curved his hands around Louis’ hips.  Their lips met and they re-learned each other by taste, by touch. 

“Fuck me Harry,” Louis whispered, bracing himself with his hands on Harry’s broad shoulders. 

Staring directly into Louis’ bright, fevered eyes, Harry nodded his head once.  Making Louis happy was Harry’s life’s work. 

So he did exactly what Louis asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	3. This Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis overwhelms Harry sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

The sheets are damp and a little bit sticky underneath him.  He feels like he’s floating but it’s nothing like the simultaneous feeling he has of being inexplicably tethered to the ground, to the earth, by these hands, these lips…this body.

This boy on top of him.

Harry feels hot insistent lips at his pulse, pulling fevered noises from his very soul.  He thinks he could burn right here, in this small bed in this small apartment in this big city. 

Just from the boy on top of him. 

Louis whispers in his ear.  Endearments that are meant to be comforting, assurances, but they just ignite under his skin and Harry wants.  He wants so much.  Now and always. 

With this boy on top of him. 

“Want to hear you.”

“Want to see you.”

“God you feel so good.”

Harry runs his hands, always too big and clumsy in normal circumstances, but fine and delicate now, over Louis’ small strong back.  He feels muscle and sweat and the way the boy on top of him moves is like electricity.  Sparking from end to end, illuminating every single fibre of his being.  And it’s so much.  Too much.  But really, never enough.

With the boy on top of him. 

The first time they were like this it was all nervous smiles and cautious hands.  But now, with time and with patience and with more love than Harry could ever contain in his heart, they’ve perfected this dance.  They’ve made it perfectly imperfect with every single touch, every kiss, every brush of skin on skin.  And Harry wants.  God, he wants it so much.  So much.

Louis fills him like a study of opposites.  Soft and hard, tender and rough, the sublime and the eternally grounding, grounded here on earth, in this bed.  Hips that fit tight and flush, legs that slot neatly around curved hips, lips that meld around each other like liquid gold and the hard bright edge of platinum.  Harry gasps.  He cries with the absolute delight of it.  His mouth opens wide and his eyes close tight and Louis, Louis is there, he’s always there, whispering, shushing, making him feel like beauty and reality and everything that is good and deserving of this worship.  And Harry can’t speak.  He can’t even speak.

With this boy on top of him.

When they share everything that can possibly be shared, breath, skin, and this keening cascade of falling over the edge, with eyes wide open.  Looking, seeing everything, in each other’s eyes.  The way that it feels is something Harry can never explain, describe.  He’s never tried.  Couldn’t if he wanted to.  Because in this moment, like all the others before, and undoubtedly all the others after, it feels like nothing but everything.  And it feels so fucking right, is the thing.  There’s a tranquility to it, like being in the eye of the storm, but also this sort of frenzy, this messy all over free falling that Harry clings to with the edges of cracked fingernails and he feels it all. Every bit of it.

And the boy on top of him…

He cries. 

And Harry moves them so that their positions are reversed and it feels like the tide turning.  It feels like falling into place inside a home that you’ve always known and Harry.  Harry wants it to never end.  He knows it won’t.  It can’t.  Not with the way they love.  Feel.  Want.  Have.

Just him and this boy, this boy who is everywhere at once, all around and everywhere.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	4. The Etching of Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets his first tattoo. He has an (un)expected reaction. 
> 
> For @jackstylinson (ao3) @dimpled-halo (tumblr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

**The Etching of Wings**

“Hi.  Um…I’m here to see…uh…Louise?”

The small, dark haired woman with the lip piercing looked up from her comic book and tilted her head.  “Louise?  We don’t have a Louise here.”

Harry shuffled and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from his jeans pocket.  There was an address, the time—8:30 Friday night—and a name.  He thought it said “Louise”.  He squinted at it and turned it sidewise.  “Hm.  Um.  Maybe, like, Louisa?”

Comic book girl smirked.  “Nope.  No Louisa, either.” 

“Jeez.  Well.  I’m supposed to have an appointment.  Like, right now?  Actually, um—about 5 minutes ago?  So?  Can you look up my name?”  Harry could feel his cheeks getting redder by the minute.  Fucking Niall and his fucking chicken scratch. 

The slight, pale girl in front of him burst out into loud peals of laughter.  “I’m just takin’ the piss!”

Harry took a step back, startled by the sudden loud noise in the small quiet space.  It was surprisingly empty in the tattoo shoppe and with the muted lights, earth tone décor and the soft music playing in the background Harry was reminded of a spa he used to go to with his mum and sister back when he lived at home.  He was sure it was all meant to be relaxing but it was doing nothing to soothe his jittery nerves. 

The receptionist folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.  The leather made a soft squeak as her tiny frame pressed backward.  “Spook easy, huh?”

“No, I’m.  Uh.  Just a little nervous, is all?  It’s my first time.”  Harry shifted from foot to foot again and tried to calm his breathing. 

“Harry is it?”

Harry nodded quickly.  “Ok.  Well, first off, you're here to see Louis.  And second, no need to be nervous.  We put all the virgins with our best artist.  So…you’re in good hands, yeah?”

“Virgins?”  Harry just knew his face was as red as a Christmas ribbon. 

The girl smiled and stood up, rounding the front desk.  She stood in front of Harry and looked up at him.  “Dude.  You need to chill.”  She gestured to a large, plush soft looking couch along the wall.  “Sit down and ‘m gonna get you a drink.”  Harry watched her saunter off, exiting the reception area and disappearing behind the French doors that led to what he assumed were the artist studios. 

He was left alone in the quiet.  Glancing around the room, Harry noted that it looked so different from what he imagined a tattoo parlour to look like.  Niall had said it was the best in London.  Harry had scoffed at him because, “Niall!  You don’t even  _ have _ any tattoos.” 

Niall had smiled that impish grin and said, “Everyone who’s anyone knows that’s where you go, young Harry.”

So here he was, sat alone in a tattoo parlour,  _ studio _ (as the discrete sign hanging over the front door indicated), feeling his pulse skyrocket beneath his skin and like he might throw up the Thai food he had for lunch.  He took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs and make his tummy rise.  His meditation coach would be happy.  Breathe.  Breathe, he repeated over and over again as he willed himself to calm the fuck down.

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry sat upright with a jerk, thunking his head on the back of the wall.  The heavy oak frame, with the print of a single black line on pale skin, above him rattled on the wall.  “Fuck!” he growled, rubbing the back of his head.  He must have drifted off for a second—a meditation hazard—and not realized it. 

He looked up at the voice that had startled him and realized it wasn’t the tiny receptionist but a rather tiny, compact, and beautiful man.  “Ummm…”

“Fell asleep there, didn’t you?”

His  _ voice _ .  God.  His voice was a combination of soft feather-light autumn breezes and sweet candy floss disintegrating on the tongue.  To Harry it sounded like magic swirled in a dark roast cup of smooth coffee, and it was coming out of probably the sexiest mouth Harry had seen in a long time.  Pink and soft, with lips curved up into the gentlest of smiles. 

And it was…doing  _ things _ to Harry. 

Harry could hear the sound of hot fevered nights and lazy Sunday mornings in that voice.  It was calm, like his mum’s, but sexy--like a person who knew what he wanted and how to get it.  It had a soft edge to it, like the owner of it just got too lazy to finish off some of the words.  But it was raspy around the middle, so much so that it made Harry feel like maybe it might sound really, really good crying out in his ear, while he pounded, hot and hard inside his...

He was definitely losing the plot here.

“Uh…”

The man was bent in half, peering down at Harry with a twinkle of mischief and teasing in his eyes.  “Do you say anything else?”

Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling the familiar flush rise up over his face.  “Yeah…um…”

The man grinned, bright and a little wild.  “Come on then.  Follow me.”  He handed Harry a cold glass of sparkling water, the bubbles rising in the crystal liquid like birthday balloons against a summer sky. 

Harry got up and followed him.

***

“Mate.  That’s like… _ bold _ for a first tattoo.”  The tattoo artist, Louis was his name, was looking from Harry’s face to the sketch he pulled out of his notebook and had handed him just moments before.

“Go big or go home, right?” Harry answered weakly.

After following the man—who had a body sculpted from heaven and all things that made Harry weak in the knees—through a maze of hallways and into a small studio at the back of the building, Harry had learned that Louis was the owner and head artist at Fireproof Tattoo Studio.  Right from the start, Harry noticed things about the studio that challenged his former beliefs about tattoo studios.  The lighting was soft and the music ranged from Ed Sheeran to Blondie to Norah Jones.  Louis had a soft voice and an even softer touch as he explained the process he would be using and asked Harry some background medical questions.

Harry didn’t even realize he was shaking.  Until Louis placed a warm, calming hand on his arm.

“You ok there lad?”

Harry blinked up at him and felt his throat go dry.  Louis was  _ all kinds _ of beautiful.  His eyes were a bright shiny blue that reminded Harry of the sea near his gran’s cottage.  And his face was angular without being severe and lined with auburn scruff that Harry was itching to touch.  Harry pinched the inside of his thigh, trying to distract himself.

“Yeah…um.  Just nervous, you know?  It’s my first time—“

“Virgin. Right.  Jane told me.”   Louis was smirking at him.  Harry shouldn’t find it as cute as he did.  He should find it annoying, demeaning even.  But he didn’t.  It was  _ cute _ .  Really cute.  Sort of fluffy animal kind of cute. 

“Not a virgin,” Harry grumbled. 

Louis perched on the edge of the table Harry was laying on.  It reminded Harry of a physician’s examination table.  “Ok.  Not a virgin.”

Harry felt the slow smile spread across his face.  “ _ Not _ a virgin,” he said more emphatically.  And, yeah, he was aware that he was flirting with his tattoo artist.  But he was so  _ cute _ . 

Harry could feel the warmth from Louis’ hip spreading into his own thigh.  The candlelight from the corner of the room cast a soft glow on the space.  There was an overhead light that wasn’t turned on at the moment but it felt like, if it were on, it would put the two of them in a spotlight, creating a soft little bubble of light around them.  Sort of like they were floating on an ocean of darkness, the only illumination the spark between them.

“So.  Anyway…this is a pretty big piece for your first tattoo.”  Louis actually looked concerned, a wrinkle forming across his forehead as his lips pursed.  His lips were really pretty.  And soft looking.  Harry thought he could smell cigarette smoke and something like pine, clean and crisp, like Christmas. 

“Right.  I know.  But, like. It’s symbolic?” Harry started, playing with the edge of his light blue button up shirt.  “I’ve like, been through something.  And, I’ve only just figured out how to, like…stay calm?  Not have anxiety.  Panic attacks.  Or whatever?” 

Louis leaned forward.  Harry was pretty sure he was closer.  He could actually see the streaks of pale green in his blue eyes, making them seem like Planet Earth, twirling and aglow in the vast universe, but keeping Harry anchored to right here, right now.  “Symbolic?”

“Right.  Like ‘butterflies in my stomach’?  And, like.  I want that reminder.  That I can control it.  I’m in charge of how I react to things, you know?”  Harry exhaled a deep, even breath, just talking about the past few years had that old familiar tickle of worry flitting about behind his chest, bouncing around inside of him.  He breathed in—deep—and exhaled, slowly, evenly.  Louis watched him, a curious look on his face. 

“I hear you.  I think that’s…” Louis looked down, dark lashes fluttering over the rosy apples of his cheeks.  When he looked up again he was alarmingly open, sincere, his eyes like a beacon of light against a night sky.  A lighthouse guiding ships to shore.  “I think that’s beautiful.”

Harry stopped fidgeting and smiled back at the smaller man sitting next to him.  It  _ was _ beautiful.  All of the pain and heartache Harry had been through…it had all been worth it.  Because he was here, on the other side of it.  And he was stronger, more alive because of it.  So, yeah.  It was beautiful. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, voice soft and gentle, matching the light in Louis’ eyes. 

“So.  Any questions before we get started?”  Louis slid off the table, the soft tap of his shoes on the floor a reminder to Harry that this was really happening, that he was really doing this. 

Harry squirmed a little, sliding down the table so he could stretch his torso out a bit.  “Just one.”

Louis arched an eyebrow and tacked the sketch on the corkboard next to his work table.  “Yeah?”  That concern was back.  It made Harry feel special, like he was worthy of being looked after for once.  Instead of the other way around. 

“Can you…um…change the music?  I think I might fall asleep if this stays on.”  He gestured to the speakers embedded in the ceiling. 

Louis laughed, loud and sudden, the sound like a tree branch snapping in a forest.  “Yeah.  I think we can do something about that.” 

Harry grinned back, enjoying the moment of pure joy that passed between them.  Louis was ok.  More than ok.  He was…kind.  And Harry could get used to that.

***

“I’m off boss.”  Jane’s big brown eyes swept over Harry’s body as he lay like an offering in the middle of the room.

“Ok babe.  See you tomorrow.”  Louis dismissed the girl absently, lining up needles and ink and alcohol pads, not looking up from his work. 

Before the receptionist breezed back down the hall she called out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Harry caught Louis rolling his eyes, his small teeth biting into his bottom lip as he fought the urge to grin.  He seemed to do that a lot.  Grin.  There was something light and cheerful about him.  Harry couldn’t really explain it…it was like he just  _ radiated _ happiness.  “That doesn’t leave a lot of options, darling!”  Louis teased back, his lilting voice chasing Jane through the building.  Harry could hear her boisterous laugh fade into the night.

“She seems nice.”  Harry observed.

“Yeah.  She’s a doll.  My little sister’s friend.  Known her for years.  A right troublemaker, that one.”  Louis turned and looked at Harry, eyes burning into the skin of his torso.  If Harry weren’t half naked he would feel undressed by Louis’ eyes alone.  The way Louis looked at him…it was like he was memorizing every curve, every line, tucking it away to examine later.  It made Harry want to stretch out like a cat and purr, maybe even rub up against Louis a little. 

Louis cleared his throat and reached up over Harry’s body where he lie on the table.  He turned on the overhead light, a round discus of fluorescence that burned Harry’s eyes when it first went on, the white light blinding him temporarily.  Louis’ body heat hung over Harry like a searing ray of sunlight, tickling his bare skin and making his toes curl.  He glanced up at the tattoo artist’s face and his breath caught in his throat.  If he thought Louis was beautiful from afar he was heart stoppingly stunning at this distance.  

Their eyes met.  

Harry could swear his heart stopped beating for a second.  Louis’ eyes shone electric blue and the compassion he saw there...it was like a fist breaking through his chest, painful and full of hope and new beginnings.  He looked away.

“Right,” Louis began, stepping away from Harry, taking his warmth with him, “I’m gonna...um...shave the area first, yeah?”

Louis guided Harry into a prone position on the table.  Louis placed a small rolled towel under his neck for support.  Bon Jovi sounded through the speakers overhead and Harry focused on his breathing.  Nerves.  

“You—um…you’re, uh…ready?”  For the first time all night, Harry could sense something shift in Louis.  He went from sweet and kind and reassuring to uncertain.  Almost…distracted.  Maybe this was just how he was before he went to work.  No matter, the nerves were back, so Harry focused on his breathing. 

Harry shifted his hips a little, trying to find a comfortable position, knowing Louis was watching him.  It was intoxicating, being watched like that.   _ Seen _ like that.  It had been a long, long time since someone looked at him the way Louis was looking at him now.  “Yeah.  I think so.”  He was surprised at how gruff his voice sounded.  He cleared his throat.  “I mean.  Yes.  ‘M ready.” 

Louis had told him it would be a long sitting and they might not finish it tonight.  But Harry was the last client of the day and Louis wasn’t in any kind of hurry, he assured him.   He was preparing for a long night.  Harry felt an odd sense of excitement flare up inside of him.  He just wanted to get started, wanted to get marked up.  Remind himself what he’d been through, who he was now.

He was free. 

He was strong.  Stronger.

“Ok, then.  I’m going to shave the area, clean it and put on a little moisturizer, ok?  And then you’ll have to stand so I can stencil the design.  Like we talked about and then I’ll start filling it in, yeah?”  Louis’ voice was soft, like a whisper against Harry’s ear.  His skin tingled a bit, the urge to feel Louis’ hands, the needle, touching him.  It felt like a drug pulling him in, pulling him under.  “You ok?”  Louis questioned again, watching Harry carefully.

“Oh!  Yeah.  Why?”  Harry bit his lip and clenched his fists, unclenching them quickly as he imagined his body melting into the table.  Another calming technique. 

“You just…You went a little funny there for a moment.”  Louis’ hand was on Harry’s knee.  Hot and firm.  Harry swallowed. 

“Yeah.  ‘M fine.  Totally fine.”  His voice might have cracked.  Maybe not so fine.  But.  He was ready for this.  “Let’s go.”

Louis gave him a small smile and then a wink and they were off. 

Louis made small talk, asking Harry about what he studied in uni, where he lived, about his family…all serving as a decent distraction.  But Harry wasn’t really listening, he was struggling with a sort of inner turmoil that raged inside of him.  The razor dragging against Harry’s skin was like the parting of a curtain.  Harry felt like one foot was in his future and the other still planted firmly in the past.  He took a deep breath and dragged the other foot forward.  

Louis’ hands were steady and sure as he wiped over the area with an alcohol pad.  Louis squirted a small dollop of lotion to his small hands.  He warmed it in his hands, shooting Harry a small reassuring smile.  “Might be cold.”

When his hands touched Harry’s skin, Harry shivered.  Not because he was cold, or the lotion was chilly, but because the touch of Louis’ fingers on his torso was like ice melting on hot pavement.  The feeling of their skin touching made Harry crave more, crave  _ Louis _ .  Louis’ eyes flitted to Harry’s and Harry could swear he saw Louis’ pupils widen.  Slowly, Louis massaged the area of Harry’s torso where the tattoo was going to go.  Harry sighed as he felt pulled under by by the perfect feeling of Louis’ hands on his body.  It had been so long since someone touched him like this.  Harry was finding it hard to sit still.  

Louis looked up at Harry again.  “Sorry, mate, this is kinda weird…” 

“No!  No.  I mean...it’s not. It’s, um...nice.”  Harry felt keenly embarrassed.   _ Nice _ ?  God.  He was such a loser.  Who says “ _ nice _ ” to a gorgeous man giving you a massage?

Louis gave him a small smile and looked at his hands, pink lighting up his cheeks.  He seemed to be concentrating on the movement of his hands as they swept over Harry’s torso.  Harry thought he was going to die. He felt his eyes roll back in his head.  It felt so  _ good _ .  This man and his hands were going to kill him before the needle even touched him.

Harry felt his entire body react to the small, comforting touches.  He wanted Louis’ hands all over him.  And, what?  Where did that thought come from?  He was here to get a tattoo, not a massage.  Or to be touched by a virtual stranger.  God.  He was completely insane.  

“Ok, up you go.”  Louis’ voice broke Harry out of his self-berating tirade.  

Harry shook his head and accepted Louis’ hand so he could sit up.  He was a little dizzy and didn’t quite measure the space needed properly.  Their noses bumped with an embarrassing amount of force.  

“Aw fuck!”  Harry yelled, immediately throwing his hands out to brace himself on Louis’ shoulders.

“Gah!” Louis yelled at the same time, hands flying up to his nose.  

“God!  Louis!  I’m so sorry!”  Harry leaned in further to look at Louis’ nose, his eyes.  “Are you ok?”  

Louis’ hands slid down his face, revealing a slightly red, but not bleeding nose.  “Yeah...I’m ok.”  He giggled and then smiled widely at Harry.  “That nose of yours is a weapon, Styles.”

Harry felt a smile spread across his face.  “Sorry.” He said again.  He couldn’t believe how badly he was fucking this up.  

Louis patted Harry’s thigh, the touch igniting something inside Harry, once again.  “No worries, mate.  I’m fine.”

Louis didn’t move.  Neither did Harry.  At this close proximity, Harry could see freckles dotting Louis’ nose and cheeks and he had to strongly resist the urge to sweep the feathery auburn from his forehead as it hung over his eyes.  He was  _ stunning _ .

“Alright. L--let’s get you stencilled.”  Louis said in a hushed voice, breaking the the spell by moving backward, making space for Harry to stand up.

Harry stood, albeit on shaky legs, and nodded.  Louis plopped down on a rolling stool and scooted up so that he was directly in front of Harry.  About eye level with his crotch.  Which was--interesting.  “Oh!” Louis laughed, staring awkwardly at Harry’s bulge and then up to the area he was meant to work at.  He quickly adjusted his chair so that he was up several inches and able to better reach Harry’s abdomen.  He smiled up at Harry.  Harry swallowed thickly, because having Louis that near him, near his...junk, was a bit distracting.  

“Right.”  Louis’ voice was a bit ragged around the edges as he held the transfer paper up to the space below Harry’s nipples, over his belly button and in the center of his chest.  “Hold this for me?”

Harry reached down with shaky fingers and secured the paper with both hands on either side.  The soft brush of Louis’ fingers on his made him exhale sharply.  Louis glanced up at him and they exchanged a charged look.  Harry wondered if Louis was always this magnetic, this  _ intriguing _ .  Or if it was just Harry’s imagination, nerves getting the better of him, making him extra excitable, extra  _ sensitive  _ to every little thing--every touch, every look. 

“Ok.  Remember what we agreed to?” Louis finished with the transfer of the outline as he rolled away, his cheeks the most vibrant pink than they’d been all night.  Harry couldn’t help but feel that maybe Louis was also affected by whatever had bewitched Harry in the small studio, the dark night around them like a shield, keeping them close and protected inside, together.  

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a little fuzzy.  He was obviously affected by everything so far, on top of being unbearably nervous about getting the tattoo.  This was a big step he was taking.  A metaphorical leap into the future.  “Yeah.  Yes.  I, um…tap the table if I need a break.  Sit still.  Try not to cough, yawn, fart…whatever.  Right?”

Louis laughed, like a wind chime on a hazy spring day.  “Right.  Although I think you added that fart bit…”

Harry smiled at Louis and watched Louis’ face light up like a vibrant sunrise.   _ Gorgeous _ .  “’M ready Louis.”

“Ok.  Ok.”  Louis took a deep breath right as the track changed. 

“I Will Survive” came on over the speakers.  “I love this song!” the two men both exclaimed at once, the mood light again in the small room. 

“Jinx.  Owe me a coke.”  Louis exclaimed. 

Harry laughed, loud and deep.  “We used to say kiss.” 

“Hm?” 

“Owe me a kiss.”  Harry’s voice was low, quiet, and he couldn’t believe he actually said it.

Louis looked Harry deep in the eyes.  “Owe me a kiss…” he repeated.

“Yeah.  Well…” Harry bit his lip, watching Louis’ eyes grow dark, “Kids, you know?”

Louis smiled, crooked and a bit dangerous.  “Careful,  _ kid _ .  Might make you pay up.”

Harry thrummed his fingers over his stomach, feeling the muscles tighten at the contact.  “Gladly.”

Louis cleared his throat and poked at Harry’s hip.  “No flirting while I’m working, got it?”  His tone was light and teasing, but his eyes were still dark.

Harry smiled, wide, fully aware of what he was doing.  “Got it.  Flirting is a no.”

“Right.   _ Big  _ no.  Unless you want me tattooing your nipples.”

Harry’s mind went a little blank at the thought of Louis doing anything with his nipples.  And that was enough to have him distracted again.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  In.  Out. 

Harry lay down again on the table and watched Louis flit around him, getting supplies ready again.  Harry pulled the towel under his neck and moved a little until he was comfortable.  Louis started humming along to the song as he got into position.  Just before he pressed the sharp edge of the needle to Harry’s xiphoid process he looked at Harry to make sure he was ready.  A look passed between them and Harry nodded slightly.  He was ready.  

The needle skimmed Harry’s abdomen and Harry couldn’t have even  _ begun _ to predict the reaction he had.  

He might have thought he’d groan, maybe complain about the pain.  Maybe close his eyes tight and try to breathe through it.  Maybe even fight with his body to lay still and bear it.  What he didn’t plan on, could have never  _ guessed _ he would do, was experience arousal, deep and sharp like lightning catching dry brush.  The flames of it licked at his nerve endings and pulsed through his body. The exquisite pain of the first peirce of needle into skin traveled straight through him and soared, bottomless and giddy inside of him.  Right into his very core.  

“Ahh!” Harry cried out, making Louis go completely still.

“You ok?”  Louis had one gloved hand on Harry’s sternum, the other holding the gun above the place where he had just broken through the skin.

Harry clenched his teeth and willed his dick to behave.  Because this was.  Not.  Cool.  At.   All. 

He was wearing tight jeans that would leave very little to the imagination if he got hard.  And he was pretty sure that getting turned on during a tattoo was sort of…gross?  Not entirely  _ normal _ , anyway. 

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Just.  Surprised me.  That’s all,” he managed to squeak out.  Because it was not at all possible that he was getting turned on by this.  Not possible at all.

Louis seemed to accept it, nodding his head and patting Harry comfortingly along his ribcage, fingers slotting in neatly into the spaces there.  Harry took a deep breath and nodded again, indicating that Louis should continue. 

The needle touched skin again.

Harry felt it.  In his  _ cock _ .

Oh god.  He  _ was _ getting hard. 

He was getting hard while getting a tattoo and what the  _ fuck  _ was he supposed to do about it?  Who does that?  Embarrassment and dread and something a little like anticipation flooded through his body.  He felt the combination of emotions and sensations wash over his skin like a lover’s tongue. And fuck.  What the hell?

The music changed and Dee-Lite’s “Groove is in the Heart” came on.  Louis’ hands remained steady but his hips started to sway as he sang along.  Harry could smell cinnamon gum on his breath and felt the heat from his body covering his own like a blanket.  He could see Louis’ hourglass figure bowing in the air alongside him in time to the music.  It was intoxicating.   _ Louis _ was intoxicating.

The  _ needle _ , on the other hand, was  _ relentless _ . 

Harry squeezed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw.  He gripped the edge of the table and felt the sharp jolt of pleasure-pain zip through his body as the needle scarred his skin over and over again and the blood rushed to his crotch like a dam bursting.  “Ah  _ fuck _ .”  He moaned.

He  _ actually  _ moaned.  He fucking moaned while a sharp implement inflicted pain on him.  And. What.  The.  Actual.  Fuck?

Once again, Louis stopped.  Harry opened one eye and found Louis staring at him, wonder spanning his face.  “You…um.  You need a minute?”  Louis’ lips were shiny and pink, his brow furrowed in concentration.  Harry could see that familiar hint of pink rising up his neck, almost like he’d spent too much time in the sun.  It was a good look on him.  Harry was pretty sure  _ everything  _ was a good look on him. 

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and squeezed his eye shut along with the other one.  “No,” he croaked, “No,  _ god _ , no.  Please just.  Just keep going.”

There was a moment of quiet before Louis started up again.  The room was quiet for a second as the music changed again, The Weeknd’s “Starboy” starting to sail around the room. 

Harry tried thinking about everything  _ but  _ what was happening right now, how his body was betraying him, practically selling him out, pulse by pulse of the razor sharp tattoo gun.  He tried to think about anything but getting hard.  Getting hard with Louis’ hands on him, his breath ghosting over his quickly dampening skin…Anything but Louis’ arse and eyes and tiny little ankles.   _ And oh fuck _ .  The needle was skittering across his solar plexus and it was making him  _ hard _ .   _ Harder _ .  He was thick and hard in his pants and there was no hiding it, no holding back now that it had started and oh  _ fuck _ . 

He was gone now.  Totally gone.  Lost to the sensation of the pain that coursed through his body like a raging river.

Harry moaned, again, his hips rotating just the slightest bit, restrained and stuttering, like there was an unseen strap holding him down, keeping him firmly in place as his body resisted it.

Harry’s entire body, his very soul, was on  _ fire _ .  He couldn’t begin to understand it, would never dream of trying to describe it.  He felt, then heard, his breath leave his body in a deep, throaty gasp.  

He was ashamed, and undeniably aroused beyond control.  

“Outline’s done.” Louis whispered, not moving.  

Harry slapped a hand down on the table, partly out of exasperation but mostly because Louis was done and Harry needed to make sure that the needle was nowhere near him.  Because Harry, Harry couldn’t stop his hips from moving now, not even if he wanted to and he really, really didn’t want to.  He started fucking up into the empty air above him because the tattoo, the act of  _ getting _ tattooed, by this incredibly good looking, seemingly kind and unbelievably sweet guy with the arse and the eyes and the mouth was driving him crazy.  Crazy to the point of near delirium. 

_ Fuck _ .

“Harry?” 

Harry took a deep shuddery breath and kept his eyes closed.  Louis’ hands were on Harry’s body, soft and gentle, trying to comfort Harry and…Harry felt the heat of them searing his skin, reaching inside of him and turning him inside out.  “I’m…Uh.  I—the needle…your hands…”  

Harry was talking through gritted teeth as he felt sheer  _ lust  _ radiating out from every point of contact between him and Louis and the needle and his burning skin where the tattoo had been outlined.  He felt his cock twitch in his pants and could actually feel Louis’ breath caressing his skin.  

It was too much. 

Louis was quiet.  But the elephant in the room…Harry’s  _ cock _ in the room?  Was starting to get uncomfortable.  Painful.  And not in a good way.  It needed to breathe.  Harry needed to unzip his pants just to give it a little more room.  It was all he could think about.   _ Free the cock.  Must free the cock.  Free my cock.  Free.  Free.  My cock.  Cock.  Cock.  Cock. _

He must have moaned again because Louis stopped touching him and dabbed up some blood while quietly laying the needle down.  Harry was afraid to open his eyes.  Afraid to look up and see the look of second hand embarrassment on Louis’ face.  He was going to get kicked out of his very first tattoo appointment.  He failed at life.  Failed at tattooing, anyway. 

Louis cleared his throat and Harry could feel him standing close.  Very, very close.  He could smell the tobacco-pine-cinnamon of him and it made him dizzy. 

“Harry?” Louis whispered. 

Harry slowly, very, very slowly, opened his eyes and let his hand travel down his side until he cupped his very hard and very confined length.  “Aaah!” he cried out, unable to hide his arousal anymore, not wanting to, the feeling of  _ need _ that had positively taken over him completely behind the wheel now.  Harry was lost to it.  He was probably going to jail for public indecency but he couldn’t even think about that now.  He needed to get off and soon.  He was so far gone.

What he saw when he finally looked at Louis, locked eyes with him, surprised him.  Had him gasping and rocking his hips up into the not nearly  _ enough  _ hold of his curled fist over his cock.  “You…”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Louis groaned, low and scratchy, his eyes glassy as he looked down at Harry.

Louis’ hand was over his own dick, pressing down on it and Harry could see the other man’s erection straining against the confines of his denim trousers.   And that was.   _ Oh _ .

“I…”  Harry was speechless.  He almost forgot about his own discomfort.  Almost.  But not quite.  He rolled his hips on the table, momentarily suspended in this place of hot need and desperation and disbelief that this was actually happening.  What  _ was  _ actually happening?

Louis moved then, swift and decisive.  Later, Harry would be thankful for it because who knows what would have happened if he didn’t.  Louis’ had sterile pads and saran and tape over the tattoo outline before Harry could even exhale.  Yanking Harry up with a firm fist in his hair and a brutal hand on his hip, Louis brought their mouths together in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth and it tasted like summer rain and scorched earth and a bit like chocolate.  Harry whined as he worked to catch up, his cock still kind of dictating all thought. 

“You…”  Harry tried again to talk, still processing what was happening.

“Fuck.  You’re so hot.” Louis breathed against Harry’s neck, biting down softly and making Harry groan at the pain of it. 

“ _ You _ .”  Harry really wasn’t doing well at this whole communication thing.

Louis kissed Harry again, this time slower, more thorough, the feeling of their tongues moving against one another like a cold glass of water during a drought.  Harry felt Louis press closer to him, so close that the slide of their torsos together, Louis’ clothed against Harry’s bandaged, freshly tattooed skin, drove an anguished moan from him, the sound of it muffled against Louis’ mouth.

“Feels…” Harry moaned, throwing his head back, grabbing Louis’ ample arse by the fistful, pulling him impossibly close, “feels  _ so  _ good.”

Louis chuckled against the line of his neck and rolled his chest again so that Harry felt the pain shoot through his body and directly to his cock.  His  _ cock _ .  There was  _ that _ problem again. 

“Like that?” Louis’ voice was needy but measured in Harry’s ear.

“Can we?   _ Need _ …” Harry tried to talk but Louis was doing this thing with his tongue in his ear and Harry thought he might pass out from how good it felt. 

“Yes.   _ God _ , yes.”  Louis was pulling him out of the room at a breakneck speed, nearly running down the narrow back hallway and then up a flight of stairs.  Harry blindly followed him, completely ruled by desire and nothing else.  

And the way Louis’ arse kind of jiggled a little beneath his jeans.

***

Within seconds they were in a small flat above the tattoo shoppe.  “You live here?” Harry asked breathlessly, crowded by Louis in the dark space. 

“Yeah.  I…” Louis had attached himself to Harry’s neck again, not bothering to turn on any lights.  

Breaking away, Louis threw off his sweater and pressed his bare chest to Harry’s, making Harry moan out in pain and excruciating pleasure.  Then, Harry felt himself backed up against a wall as Louis bit against his collarbone, harder this time.  Hard enough for Harry to see stars.  “It’s convenient.   _ Fuck _ .  You have too many clothes on.” 

Harry cried out as he felt Louis’ cool hands slide against the hot skin of his torso and into the back of his pants.  Louis’ fingers crept inside the upper crack of his arse and Harry pushed back against the nimble fingers.  He grabbed Louis’ face, delighting in the rough sandpapery feel of whiskers against his palms, and kissed him with intent, with purpose.  

Somehow, this night, this  _ experience _ had turned into this incredible thing of lust and discovery and Harry was so hot and so needy and this boy was offering  _ himself _ .  Offering  _ something _ . And it was so different than what Harry was used to.  It was humbling, in a way.  And Harry felt overcome with the emotion of it.  So he kissed his tattoo artist with reverent lips and a dedicated tongue and felt the other man’s face heat up under his hands.  He grabbed Louis by the arse and hoisted him up so Louis had no choice but to wrap his legs around Harry’s waist—pressing his skin to the bandaged, but stinging flesh of his unfinished tattoo.  

Louis tore himself away and grunted, “Bedroom”.

Louis hung on around Harry’s broad shoulders, slick chest sliding against Harry’s, making Harry yell out a tortured, “ _ Fuck _ !”  The pain a dull hazy ache that threatened to make Harry come before Louis even got his hands on him. 

“Down the hall,” Louis whined, licking over Harry’s Adam’s apple and tugging on his hair. 

Once they made it down the small hallway and into the only room at the end of it, Harry let Louis slide out of his arms.  They looked at each other for a moment before Harry started laughing, nervous at first, but effervescent and light soon after.  Louis joined in and pulled Harry close, kissing over his shoulders and jaw line.  As Harry slowly stopped laughing and started feeling the urgency in Louis’ hands, his kisses, he finally found words. 

“Do you?  Like, do this all the time?”  He winced at how weak and vulnerable his voice sounded.  He wanted to know where he stood.  From the start this time.

Louis stopped kissing him and leaned back, his face illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp coming in through the window.  “Bring my clients up to my flat?”

Harry nodded his head, unable to look Louis in the eyes. 

“Harry.  Look at me.”

Harry looked deep into Louis’ eyes and watched the other man blink once and then fix him with an intent stare.  “You seem to be the exception.  You seem to be  _ every  _ exception.”

Harry felt tears gather in his eyes.  Louis was so sincere.  So honest.  He wasn’t sure what he meant but he believed him.  He believed that this was special to Louis.  That  _ Harry  _ could be special to him.  Louis leaned forward and licked into Harry’s mouth and then scratched up Harry’s sides, narrowly avoiding the inked skin. 

Harry felt it in his dick.  Acutely.

“Now.  Can I get my mouth on you, Mr. Styles?” Louis breathed over a bite mark on Harry’s neck, the hot air making Harry break out in gooseflesh.  “From what I could see downstairs, what you’ve got in there is quite impressive.”

Harry barked out a laugh but it died in his throat when Louis dropped to his knees and pulled Harry’s trousers with him.  “No pants?” Louis murmured, rubbing his cheek across the head of Harry’s dick. 

Harry moaned, loudly, and felt himself clench around nothing.  “No…never.”  He breathed in and out.  In and out.  The feeling of desire was threatening to overcome him.  And in that moment, Harry decided to give in to it.  Fuck staying in control. Fuck needing to keep the upper hand.  What he wanted, what he  _ needed _ , was to surrender.  Let go and just be with Louis; there would be time to find out what this all meant later.

“This is…” Louis licked up Harry’s length like it were an ice lolly, “Impressive.”

Harry groaned when he felt Louis’ mouth cover the head.  And then Louis tightened the suction and sucked on Harry’s cock.   _ Sucked _ on it.  Harry saw blasts of colour and light behind his eyes as Louis’ tongue rolled all over Harry’s cock head and then, in a stroke of pure genius, pressed inside Harry’s slit.  

Harry’s hips stuttered and he felt a pulse of come leave his body.  He fumbled with his long fingers until he slid them in Louis’ hair, holding him still on his prick.  God, Harry wanted to come.  He needed it.  Had needed it for ages now.  Louis hummed around him and slowly took him down, hand meeting his mouth halfway.

“Aw fuck.   _ Louis _ .  That…” Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a mouth on him like this.  Couldn’t remember a blow job that made him feel this floaty, this lost on a sea of absolute pleasure.  He thought that maybe he’d never felt anything this good, this  _ right _ .  “Feels fucking  _ amazing _ .”

Louis just kept at it.   Harry felt heat coiling deep inside, threatening to explode.  Louis dragged the edge of his bottom teeth along the ridge of Harry’s head at the same moment he placed the flat of his hand over the unfinished ink on Harry’s sternum.  The pull of raw skin under the flimsy gauze and tape combined with the momentary panic of having teeth pressed to the most sensitive part of his body did it for Harry. 

With a groan that rumbled through his chest and out from the back of his throat, Harry came.  He came long and hard in Louis’ mouth and what Louis didn’t swallow he let dribble out of his mouth and slide down Harry’s cock.  Louis used his hand to slide up and down Harry’s shaft, slick and hot with saliva and come.  The wetness and the perfect tight hold of Louis’ fist made Harry keen as he threw his head back and felt the tremors of his orgasm wrack his body.  Trembling, Harry scratched through Louis’ scalp and looked down to watch the other man work him through what was probably the most intense orgasm of Harry’s life. 

“Fucking hell.   _ Louis _ .”  Harry watched Louis smile as he lapped up the come on Harry’s still rather hard dick.  Louis wiped his mouth and kissed the head before he crawled his way up Harry’s standing body.  

“You… _ Fuck _ .”  Harry was still apparently suffering at the whole using words thing.

Harry licked into Louis’ mouth, tasting himself and Louis, spicy and sweet, sort of like bitter chocolate laced with chili powder and cinnamon.  “Wanna taste you,” he said simply, pushing at Louis’ trousers.  Now that he had come, his mind had cleared marginally and all he wanted was to get his hands, his mouth,  _ anything  _ on Louis. 

Louis smiled into the kiss and worked with Harry, the two of them clumsy and distracted with all the kissing, but finally they succeeded, Louis’ pants discarded and kicked across the room.  Now that they were both naked Harry felt like he could finally focus.  “Can I?”  He gestured at Louis’ straining cock. 

“God,  _ yes _ .”  Louis murmured. 

Harry pushed Louis back toward the bed, following him the entire way, hands trailing over his skin, mouth following.  He crawled over Louis, feeling his own still half hard cock rub against Louis’ length.  Louis whined, high and long, and panted “ _ Fuck _ .  Someday soon you are going to fuck me with that gorgeous cock of yours, Styles.”

Harry paused and bent his head to lick over Louis’ nipple.  Louis moaned and arched his back, forcing the hardened peak into Harry’s mouth.  Harry bit down softly, testing.  Louis made a sound that raised the hairs on Harry’s arms and made his hole contract.  Louis just  _ sounded _ like sex, needy and hot and so fucking raw…It made Harry want to spend eons making him happy, driving him to the brink and then over again and again.  Just so he could hear that noise, the noise of breaking him apart so that he could piece him back together like fragile glass.  Shattered and loose and flying like fireflies on a summer night. 

Now that Harry was actually experiencing sex with Louis he couldn’t believe how strange the night had turned out. 

“I…can I suck you?”  Harry looked up and saw Louis’ face, flushed and red and dotted with perspiration.  He looked like something created solely from Harry’s fantasies, nothing in real life could possibly look that good. 

“Yes.   _ God _ .  Your mouth…” Louis’ voice broke as he thumbed over Harry’s bottom lip.  Harry sucked first one and then three of Louis’ fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue over them, making Louis buck up against him.  Louis’ cock was hard and weeping at the slit and Harry, Harry wasn’t much better.  He thought he could probably come again.  Was actually pretty fucking sure he could come again.

“Wanna make you feel good,” Harry whispered, a line of saliva connecting Louis’ fingers to his mouth.  Louis smiled and opened his legs further, tangling his hand in Harry’s messy curls. 

“ _ Want you _ .”  Louis’ voice was rough and deep.  Harry was ready.  Ready to hear Louis lose control, give himself to Harry.

Slowly, Harry opened his mouth and sank down on Louis’ erection, never breaking eye contact.  Louis’ eyes watered but he stared back, the feeling of intense connection between the two of them startling and mystical.  Harry stopped halfway and relaxed his throat and opened himself up to Louis.  He sank further and felt Louis hit the back of his throat.  Adjusting his position, he moved so that Louis could slip inside his throat.

Louis shook and shouted, “Goddamn it!   _ Fuck _ .”

Harry closed his eyes and held Louis’ hips still so he couldn’t fuck into Harry’s mouth.  Then, then Harry swallowed.

Like a switch was flipped, Louis pulsed, sudden and ferocious, filling Harry’s throat with his release.  

“God.  Oh  _ god _ .  Oh  _ fucking _ god.” Louis cursed, his entire body rigid as Harry finally moved up and sucked on his cock, sliding up and down, up and down, helping Louis finish his high.  

While Harry finished Louis off he humped the blankets once, twice and then he was coming again, his hips grinding down on the mattress while his cock spurt helplessly, tired but not entirely unenthusiastic.  He couldn’t get enough of Louis--his taste, the way he sounded, the feel of him in his mouth, under him.

After a few long moments, Harry let Louis slip out of his mouth.  As he wiped his mouth, Louis whispered, broken and shaky, “Jesus Christ, come here.” 

Harry crawled up the mattress and lay half on top of Louis, feeling shaky hands slide over his sweat slick back.  Louis kissed Harry tenderly, their tongues meeting and the taste of sex and promise passing between them.  Harry felt so completely calm.  Clean.  Sated and loose and like he could do anything.  The pain from the tattoo was a distant memory as the boy underneath him kissed him slowly and thoroughly. 

“Fuck.  You’re good at that.”  Louis finally said, as Harry laughed softly and dropped his face into the space between Louis’ head and shoulder.  He nosed along the column of Louis’ neck, the smell of pine and boy and sweat stronger now that they’d had sex.

Harry grinned dopily and drew lazy shapes over Louis’ hip.  He reveled in the feeling of Louis’ soft golden skin as he shifted underneath him.  It was quiet in the room, the low sound of music from the shoppe below sounding through the walls and floor.  Harry could hear the other man’s heart beating and felt his breathing calm through his own skin. 

“Glad Niall told you to call me.”  Louis whispered.

Harry frowned and propped himself on his elbow, looking down at Louis.  “Niall?”

Louis tilted his head and twirled one of Harry’s curls around his finger.  “Yeah Niall.  He…he told you to call me right?”

“How do you know Niall?”  Harry asked slowly. 

“Um…”  Louis licked his lips.  Harry felt something slide into place, like a key into a locking mechanism.  “He and I play footie on Monday nights?”

Harry thought back on recent conversations with Niall and… _ oh _ .  “You’re Lou?  Lou from football?”

Louis smiled sheepishly.  “Yeah?  I guess?  What’s—what are you thinking?”

Lou from football.  The hot guy Niall had been trying to set Harry up with.  The guy Harry said he couldn’t meet—didn’t want to meet—because he wasn’t ready for a relationship, couldn’t fathom even thinking about another relationship.  Not with everything he’d been through.  Not with the way his heart was still healing.  Still putting himself back together. 

And then.  The tattoo.  Niall’s insistence that Harry go where he recommended.  The way Niall had checked Harry’s schedule.  Made the appointment for him, even.  Lou from football. 

Yeah.  Niall.

“Nothing,” Harry finally said, dropping back to lay down next to Louis, basking in the warmth from his body.  “Glad Niall told me to call you too.”

Louis made a contented noise and wriggled closer to Harry.  “Can you stay?” he whispered, pulling Harry to him, kissing his forehead.

Harry pulled the duvet up over their bodies, cuddling into Louis, amazed for a moment at how good it felt, how good  _ Louis _ felt, pressed up to close like he was his other half, his missing piece. 

“Yeah.  I can stay.” 

Harry somehow knew that staying wasn’t really his choice to make.  That somehow staying was the only option and that it was sort of like the unfinished butterfly dotting his chest.  This was his new beginning.  He didn’t need a reminder of the past.  He only needed to know that the start of this, his future, was permanent.  Etched into his skin.  Like a tattoo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	5. The Curve of his Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when Harry looks at Louis it's creepy. In the best possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

Harry knows that Louis is pretty.    


Like, objectively he can look at him and see that he is pretty.  The cheekbones, the eyes, the face.  The whole thing.  Pretty, pretty, pretty.

But the thing is, Louis is  _ his _ .  He belongs to Harry.  In every single way.  They share a life, a home... _ shit _ ...everything down to their joint businesses and property holdings are  _ theirs _ .  They belong to each other on paper and in every other way that matters.

But when Louis looks like this, golden and practically sparkling like a fucking vampire in a Stephanie Myers book, Harry sort of forgets to breathe.    


He's just so  _ pretty _ .

Right now Harry is transfixed by the curve of his husband’s neck.  He is shirtless, sitting on the edge of their bed looking down at a sketch book off to the right of his lap.  He's been sketching ideas for their next set of tattoos, telling Harry that he wants something original, more intimate...more  _ them _ .  Louis’ thin, nimble fingers flit over the charcoal smudged on the porous linen paper.  He sighs and turns the page.

Harry stands, rather creepily (he thinks Louis would call him out on it if he weren't so absorbed in his sketching) and stares at Louis from the doorway.  At his neck, specifically.

He wants to kiss him there.  Lick over that corded tendon and bite softly into the tender flesh between his neck and shoulder--just a hint of teeth, a scrape of pleasure pain that promises more.  If Louis wants it.

Harry would give Louis anything he wants.   _ Anything _ .

“Harold, you're creepin’ me out.”

Harry swallows thickly and crosses the room, dropping to his knees clumsily.  He closes his mouth over Louis’ pulsepoint and helps himself to two firm handfuls of arse.  Louis is caught off guard, scrambling for purchase against the duvet.  With a high moan, he cries out his husband's name.  “Harry!”

It sounds like electricity zipping along a hotwire, traveling straight to Harry's cock, making him want even more.  Always more with Louis.  Always.

“Wanna make you come,” Harry whispers against Louis’ wet skin.

Louis’ hips drive up into the minuscule space between them.  “Wh--what brought this on?”

Louis grips the back of Harry's head, tangling his fingers in the short, but growing, mess of curls at the base of his neck.  His other hand is pulling Harry forward so that they land sprawled across the bed, legs hanging off, sketch pad tumbling to the ground like snow against a vibrant blue winter sky.

“Love you.  Love your neck,” Harry whines as Louis scurries up the bed, making Harry chase him down, like a cat chasing its prey, lost in simple need, desire, for Louis and his skin, his taste, his  _ everything _ .     


“It's yours.   _ I'm _ yours,” Louis whispers, eyes locking with Harry's, evergreen swirling with sea glass, the moment frozen between them, the cool air of their bedroom the only witness.  

“Yours,” Harry mumbles, mouthing over louis’ collarbone, “ _ mine _ .”  He knows he's not making sense but it doesn't matter right now because Louis is under him, making  _ those _ noises and moving  _ that _ way.  And it's so much.    


Harry just loves him so much.    


Later, after Harry has licked his own come from the delicate craters of Louis collarbones and from the side of his graceful neck and after Louis has licked the taste of  _ his _ come from Harry's mouth and before they actually do fuck--wanton and loud in the middle of their king sized bed--Louis whispers in Harry's ear, “Was really creepy how you stared at me like that you know.”

Harry just grins, like the dope in love that he is, and says, “Yeah.  I know.  But you sort of like it.”

Louis pinches at Harry's nipple, making Harry's cock leap between them, and smiles.  “Yeah.  I sorta do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	6. Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wears panties. AND garters. AND stockings. And it pushes Louis just a little too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

Sometimes Harry took things a little too far.

Not that Louis was complaining.  It’s just that…well, this time, this time, might be the thing that just pushes Louis too far. 

“What?” Harry asked, demurely, as if he didn’t know  _ what _ .  What he was doing to Louis right now, standing there like that.  Wearing  _ those _ .

Louis felt heat rise in his chest like an inferno, an all-encompassing surge of hot arousal mixed with the need, this  _ desire _ , to possess Harry.  Just  _ own _ him.  “Don’t act like you don’t know.  Like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” Louis scraped his teeth over Harry’s bare collarbone, making the willowy boy shiver and bend in his embrace. 

“Lou—“  Harry lost whatever he was going to say as a deep, nearly guttural moan exploded from his throat.  Louis felt the sound of it in his bloodstream.  In his cock.

Louis pulled back and looked down at Harry.  Harry, who was wearing satin, creamy, vanilla coloured, sexy, almost indecent  _ panties _ , the lacy edges barely covering his ass and leaving very little to the imagination as the material strained against his hardening length.  Louis’ breathing accelerated as he noticed the stark black of the garters against Harry’s pale, smooth skin, the firm muscle dissected by the thin lines of fabric.  And, holy fuck, the  _ stockings _ .  

Harry was actually wearing stockings.  

Sheer, black, that Louis was just sure would feel like fucking heaven under his hands.  The translucent material covered Harry’s thin, but defined, calves like a second skin.  And, oh  _ Christ _ , the six inches or so of exposed skin between the stockings and the panties...it was...Louis was finding it hard to breathe.  His pulse thrummed wildly under his skin and he could barely find words.  Harry was too much sometimes.  Always pushing him.  Making Louis feel reckless, unashamed in the way he just  _ wanted  _ Harry.  

Harry’s dick was leaking against the soft material, making an obscene wet spot spread across the front, showing off the ridge of his cock-head, the ridge Louis liked to tease and lick and sometimes, if Harry was very, very good, run the bumpy ridges of his teeth over.

“Fu—fucking hell,  _ Harry _ .  Do you even know?   _ Christ _ .”  Louis felt the emotion of it all overtake him, his voice wavering just a little, his eyes pooling with tears.  He loved this boy so, so much.  Felt like he always had.   _ Knew  _ he always would. 

But now wasn’t the time for that.  No, Harry needed to see, feel, what he did to Louis when he pulled shit like this.   _ Fucking panties _ .

“Turn around,” Louis ordered gruffly, lust crowding his voice like sinners in church on Christmas morning. 

Harry complied.  He always did.  But not before capturing Louis’ face between his hands, calloused and rough from guitar playing, and kissing Louis until he was breathless and dizzy, lost in the pure and simple taste of Harry.  Of love.  And desire.  And everything else that his husband was to him. 

“Go,” Louis mumbled, breaking the kiss, his panting mouth pressed to Harry’s fevered skin.

Harry went.  He stood next to the bed, ready to lie down, presenting his round backside—in those  _ fucking panties _ —to Louis.  “Stop,” Louis barked, palming himself at the sight of the image before him. Fucking hell.  This boy would kill him.  Eventually.  Death by sex or something.

Louis reached into the drawer where they kept their supplies and pulled out The Red Ribbon.  They hadn’t used it since…since that time they were home on hols during their last tour.  Louis felt his dick twitch at the memory.  The ribbon.  And Harry’s engorged cock.  And…ah  _ shit _ .  Louis practically tore off his pants with one hand as he pulled the ribbon out of the drawer with the other.  He was on the verge of losing it, he was so twitchy to do something,  _ everything _ , to Harry. 

Louis took a deep, steadying breath.  He was determined to last.  To make Harry squirm.

“Gimme your hands, Haz,” he said softly, reverently, working to calm himself down, wanting tonight to be special.  Louis loved when Harry was like this.  Submitting.  Wanting to please Louis.

Harry immediately twisted his hands behind his back, big palms up, the back of his hands bunching up the satiny material of the cream coloured panties.  Louis felt his mouth go dry.  Slowly, as if entranced, he began wrapping the ribbon around Harry’s wrists, watching the back muscles across Harry’s wide frame slowly roll and writhe as his boy got more and more wound up.  “Sshhh,” Louis soothed, pressing wet kisses down the tiny notches in his husband’s spine.  “I’ve got you.”

The ribbon was tied effectively, neatly, the vibrant scarlet like poetry against Harry’s skin.  Louis placed his hand on the center of Harry’s back and guided him face down on the bed in front of them.  He playfully snapped the garter that stretched down Harry’s right thigh.  “These are… _ inspiring _ ,” he teased, his mind full of ideas how they could use the stretchy black fabric another time, next time.  He could envision Harry’s wide mouth stuffed full of black silk stocking, each hand tied with a garter to the bedposts...

Harry reminded Louis of the here and now with a pained sounding groan, shifting until he was spread out on his belly, arse hitched up in invitation.  Louis dragged a hand down Harry’s bowed back, the curve of it like a fucking piece of renaissance art, it was so lovely.  All of Harry was lovely.  

Lest he be considered sappy, or something equally horrifying, Louis reached out and slapped the firm flesh of Harry’s arse once, the sound of the smack like a gunshot in the small room.

“Fuck!   _ Louis _ !” Harry cried out as he started slowly grinding his pelvis down into the bedsheets.  Louis smirked.  Harry always did love a good spanking.

Louis crawled between Harry’s legs, his own hard cock bobbing excitedly at the sight of Harry’s arse ready for the taking, all for him, ready for him to do with as he pleased.  He bent down and breathed over the exact spot Harry’s entrance was, undoubtedly twitching eagerly. 

Quietly he murmured, hot breath wetting the thin fabric, “Gonna wreck you Harry.”

Harry bucked his hips and whimpered into the pillow.  Louis was sure that if he pulled Harry up he would see tears straining his perfect pink cheeks.  Already so far gone. 

Louis licked his lips around another smirk and gripped Harry’s hips, the satin smooth and just a touch slippery under his grasp.  As he shoved his tongue against the stretched material covering Harry’s hole, he felt blood rush to his cock and he heard the beautiful sound of Harry’s voice, torn and ragged, dangerously close to falling apart. 

This, Louis thought, as he went back in for more, was  _ everything _ .  The only thing.  The one thing that Louis could count on year after year.  Harry.  His home.  His Harry.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	7. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tattoos. The thing that always binds them. 
> 
> Based on this prompt: I'm having kind of a terrible day, and I just wanted to ask say, if you ever feel at all inspired to, I'd love a little drabble (smutty or otherwise) about Larry giving each other tattoos with the home tattoo kit I'm sure Harry has. I think you're a gorgeous writer. Hope you're doing good ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

“Did it hurt?”

Harry watches as Louis’ delicate finger traces the edge of the star, over the clear wrapping.  He winces a little at the tenderness, the slight ache of it.  “Some.”

Louis hums and stares at the inky blackness of the still-foreign object adorning his boyfriend’s creamy skin.  “Did it... _ you know _ ?”

Grinning, Harry flips them so that the smaller man lands squarely on his back, a delighted squeal ringing out in the quiet of their flat.  “It did.”  Harry grinds his hips down lasciviously, proving the point.  

There’s always this  _ thing  _ burning between them.  It’s bright and hot and nearly too big to contain.  Sometimes Harry attributes it to Louis —just the  _ Louis-ness _ of him.  Nearly too much.  Yet never enough.  But usually, especially in times like this, he thinks it’s probably the leftover stardust that brought them together, the magic of it — clinging to their skin and drawing them together like magnets.  Harry thinks he can see it glittering on Louis’ face, his chest, the curve of his hips — cascading over him like waterfalls of enchanted light.   

Louis’ mouth tastes like pure, sparkling snow and his hands move up and down Harry’s back like swirling golden sunlight.  His body fits under Harry’s like it was always meant to be there and Harry just falls.  Into it.  Into him.  

***

“Will it hurt?”

“Some.”  Harry gets the kit ready, it’s quite rudimentary, although not as bad as some, Liam tells him.  He’s done his research.  He’s thought it through.

“Will it... _ you know _ ?”

Louis is sitting at their kitchen table, his sleeve rolled up and his leg bouncing nervously.  Like a metronome.  Counting down the minutes, the seconds before needle pierces skin and the indelible marking begins.  Harry leans forward and brings Louis’ face to his with a warm hand at the back of the head.  He licks across the cherry chapstick flavor of his lips and molds their mouths, their tongues together — a shooting flare of desire passing between them, chasing the fear back to it’s dismal corner.  Louis moans into it, the starlight beneath Harry’s skin igniting at the sound.  

“Hope so,” Harry murmurs against his boyfriend’s lips.  

Louis bites down on Harry’s bottom lip, perhaps a warning, perhaps a promise.  

“Ready?”

All Harry gets is a flash of blue electricity and a short nod.  It makes him feel like a comet soaring across a night sky — knowing he has Louis’ trust, his complete and total confidence in his ability to do this, to mark him, claim him with ink and blood. 

And then, it begins.  The cosmic fusion of fate and love and commitment that is permanent.  Is forever.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	8. Dirty Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixty-nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

SSS:  Dirty Love

 

“God.   _ Harry… _ ”

Harry licks down the fuzzy patch of hair that dissects the soft swell of Louis’ tummy.  His response is a deep hum that seems to radiate from the center of his very being outward, capturing Louis in a velvety smooth cloud of heat and desire, making him feel warm and twitchy with the need to just  _ hold on _ to something.  

“Baby.  Gonna make you feel so good.”  Harry’s voice is deep like that fancy chocolate they buy sometimes to go with red wine.  The kind that’s in the gourmet aisle at the market.  The kind Harry says you have to  _ savor  _ and not  _ inhale _ .

Louis’ hips buck up involuntarily and he’d be embarrassed, he really would, it’s just that Harry is turning his body and angling himself on the mattress so that he can slip underneath Louis and...it’s so  _ fucking hot _ in here.  Who turned the heat up?

“Love your cock, babe.  Love it so much.”  Harry’s voice is so fucking deep, coming from the other end of the bed, traveling up the length of their bodies and slithering into Louis’ ear like a dirty promise.  It makes Louis feel like... like he wants to  _ die  _ from  _ sex overload _ .  It’s cliche and trite but,   _ fucking hell _ , Louis just wants to drown in it sometimes — drown in the everlasting charm that is Harry, and his bottomless voice.  

Harry shifts Louis’ hips with big, strong, sure hands and he starts feeding Louis’ cock into his mouth--deep into his mouth, practically down his throat, really going for it right from the start.  And.  The white hot feeling of it is like staring into the sun — it burns and it feels like dry paper lighting and it feels like he could shoot off right now but he won’t,  _ can’t _ .  Because he wants it to be good.  Wants Harry to feel as good as he makes Louis feel.  

Louis loves Harry an awful lot.

“Suck me, Lou.  Know there’s nothing you love more than having my cock stuffed in your mouth, darling.   _ Come on _ .  Come on.   _ Fuck _ .”  Harry is fucking up into the dry air, bumping into Louis’ chin and sliding the wet head of his cock along the seam of Louis’ lips and...it’s true.  It really is.  Louis loves sucking Harry’s dick. Loves it like like going down the first exhilarating hill of a roller coaster.  Loves it as much having his own sucked, truthfully.

And Harry is a  _ fucking monster _ , if Louis’ being honest.  Sort of makes Louis inflate like a puffer fish, when he takes him down like a porn star.  Like Harry loves him to do.

The sensation of fucking into Harry’s warm, waiting mouth while gagging on Harry’s thick, leaking cock...it’s — 

Well.  It’s sort of like being told you won the lottery.  Times two.  And you get to share the second set of winnings with your favorite person in the world.  And.  Well.  Ok.  It’s actually  _ better  _ than that.  Not that Louis would know about the lottery thing.  

It’s just really fucking good.  

Harry pops off Louis’ dick with a loud wet slurp.  “Baby.   _ Yeah _ .  Oh —  _ yeah _ .  Just.  God.  Like.  That.”

Harry deep voice reverberates around the head of Louis’ dick and makes him see stars.  He wants —  _ needs  _ — to come.  Harry’s thrusting his gigantic cock into Louis’ mouth and Louis is losing the rhythm,  fucking into Harry’s big, wet, lush mouth and it’s like flying into the eye of a storm, all dizzy suction and heat and perfect, perfect imbalance.  Harry’s hands are on his arse and the smell of Harry is all around him and Louis feels the tidal wave cresting, readying itself to come crashing down to earth.  He wants to hold off, wants to keep riding this high, but knows, that with Harry, it’s impossible to stay on the ground when he’s sucking him like this, fucking into his mouth like this.  

And then.  Then, Harry throws down the gauntlet.  

“Fuck.  Make me come, Louis.   _ Please _ .  Make me come,” he mumbles around Louis’ rock hard dick, voice raw and brimming with a kind of desire that could only have been forged by the moon and the stars.  

Louis would like to say that it's the perfect suction and the circling of Harry’s tongue and maybe even the lingering scrape of teeth along the vein ribboning up the underside...but it’s really not.  It’s Harry’s voice.  Harry’s voice is what pushes him over the edge.  Every goddamn time.  

More importantly, it’s Harry’s voice muffled by the way Louis’ cock is filling up his mouth and slipping down his throat.  It’s the way his voice is the perfect combination of scratchiness, rawness, and shamelessly unhinged because he is sucking the man he loves and doing it to such complete and utter perfection.  It’s spit and pre-come drooling out the sides of Harry’s mouth because he’s  _ begging  _ Louis to  _ make him come _ and it’s so fucking filthy it sends a sharp pang of red-hot desire up Louis’ spine.  .  

Harry’s voice.  Every.  Goddamn.  Time.

A lightening bolt of pure desire skyrockets through him and Louis is coming.  And then, because Harry loves making Louis come, loves making a complete mess of him, Harry joins him. And it's raunchy.  And dirty.  And probably the best thing Louis has ever done in in his entire life.  Always. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	9. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's always there to catch Louis when it's just too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

_ Soft _ .

That’s the only word running through his head right now.

And want.

Harry stands in the doorway of their bedroom and looks like a dream.  Looks like he’s floating on a cloud, all rosy hued and creamy skin.   _ Soft _ .

Louis would go to him if he could.  But right now it’s damn near impossible. He’s stuck; rooted in place like a solid oak tree, skin vibrating like leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze.  Harry takes his breath away.  So often it’s almost like breathing, if he’s honest.  He’s gorgeous.  And kind.  And smart.  And witty.  And so fucking gentle, it makes Louis want to cry.

And here he is, just standing there, looking at Louis like he hung the moon. And Louis just wants.  Wants to run his hands all over Harry’s soft body, beneath the sheer pale pink robe.  Wants to feel the heat of Harry’s impossibly soft skin (“moisturize,  _ Louis _ , it’s called moisturize”—his boy tells him when he marvels at it).  Wants to lick over the front of the lilac lace panties until Harry’s begging him for it.  “It” being everything Louis would give him—which is the world.

“Come here.”  Louis’ voice is rough and patchy like dry, coarse sand baking under a midday sun.

Harry smiles, his lips doing that easy crooked little thing that makes Louis smile too.  That’s what you do when Harry Styles smiles at you.  You smile back.  He’s just that charming.  That magnetic.  A force that guides you without you even knowing it.  And, for Louis, he  _ wants  _ to make Harry smile.  So he smiles back and dreams of ways to make him keep smiling.  Fucking him into the mattress (or against a wall, or on the carpet, or over the back of the sofa, or on the kitchen counter…there are a million ways actually) is usually a good place to start.

Harry stands before Louis, looking down at him with a sparkle in his spring green eyes.  Louis can make out the shadow of his dimple and can see the way the week’s stress has melted away.  The smell of  lavender hangs in the air between them, clinging to Harry’s bath-damp skin.  Louis thinks he can smell the pancakes they had for breakfast, and he wants to see if Harry’s voice is still wrecked from when he deep throated Louis well into the night last night.

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers, reverent, in complete and total awe.

He runs his hands up Harry’s torso and meets his eyes.  Harry is already half gone, his eyes drooping lazily under heavy lids and his breathing accelerated just enough that Louis can see the rise and fall of his chest.  Louis runs the pads of his thumbs over Harry’s nipples, feeling Harry’s cock rub against his stubbled chin, the lace soft and stretching more and more by the second.  Louis fits his open mouth of the head of Harry’s cock and flicks his tongue once, twice and then a third time, all while increasing the pinching Harry’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry moans.

And Louis  _ wants _ .

“ _ Baby _ .  Wanna fuck you.”  Louis speaks around Harry’s wet cock—wet with spit from Louis' mouth. Wet from Louis' mouth that's dying to get on Harry's bare, soft skin.  Wet from the bath still and from the precome that’s managed to soak through the expensive knickers that Louis ordered specifically for when they were on break, when Harry could just lounge in them all day.  As if Louis would let him keep them on that long.

“Yeah.”  Harry’s voice is a dreamy cotton smooth—supple and satiny, but still needy with a raw edge to it.

This boy and his contradictions.  Louis loves every one of them.

Louis stands up and slides greedy hands up Harry’s firm, soft torso.  His mouth follows, licking and kissing wetly, leaving a trail against Harry’s blushing skin like jet fuel across a night sky.  When he gets to Harry’s mouth he says, before kissing Harry like he means it, “Wanna fuck you baby—want—wanna come inside you.  Feel you all around me.   _ God _ .”  Louis sees the way Harry watches him, his eyes so dark Louis wonders if that’s what it feels like to rocket into space.

“ _ Want you _ .”  Louis can’t think of how to say it any other way.  He just wants.  So fucking much.  So fucking much  _ all the time _ .  His voice cracks and his throat tightens, tears gathering in his eyes.  So fucking much.

Harry hums, deep and comforting, gripping Louis—firm, big hands pressing into curved hips, grounding him before he floats away, lost in the forever sea of desire that sometimes threatens to take over him.

Harry smiles and speaks, his lips brushing over Louis’—soft, hot, a match sparking against the combustion of Louis’ want.

“Darling,” Harry coos, “I’m yours.”  He gently guides Louis backward to the bed,  _ their  _ bed.  “I’m yours.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	10. Paradise City (Take me Down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Tomlinson finds himself in a compromising position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

There are times when Louis could look at a situation with perfect clarity.  A clean edge around the crystal clear brim of understanding that could actually smack you in the face.  It’s actually what makes him so good at his job—this sense of precision, accuracy. 

This is decidedly not one of those times.

Because, what the actual fuck is he doing here?  In his office, between his late afternoon Statistics class and his evening Math Educator’s seminar…with one of his students.  One of his students between his legs, for God’s sake, kneeling subserviently like a damn porn star,  about to wrap those fucking sinful, plump pink lips around his aching…

No.  This is more like one of those hazy-look down from above-dreamlike-pinch me I’m dreaming times.  Fuzzy.   Surreal.  Definitely not in the realm of plausibility.

“Do you like it like this?”  The man’s— _ Louis’ student _ —voice traveled through the haze on a cloud of sensual arousal like mist over a mountain lake. 

All Louis could do was nod, because, yes, _yes_ , he liked that _very_ _much_.  The student, Harry, grunted in agreement and pushed his long, wet (cheeky bastard had lube in his backpack) finger inside Louis’ arse.  Louis moaned wantonly, aware in the periphery of his mind that he should probably be quiet but nowhere near able to comply with that edict. 

How they got here, to this point, with Louis’ hard cock just about inside the Promised Land and Harry’s nimble, dexterous finger inside of him was beyond comprehension.  All Louis knows is that one moment he was explaining to Harry how to use a particular algebraic formula and then Harry’s mouth was on his, there was a pile of office supplies strewn across the floor and his pants were around his ankles.

It was all very sudden.

Well, not really. 

Not if you counted the weeks of longing stares (on Harry’s part), the hours of trying to think about anything else other than how a certain graduate student’s mouth tasted after he drank a steaming peppermint mocha (on Louis’ part)…or if you tried  _ not _ thinking about the fact that this was inevitable.  Like the way a bride cries on her wedding day or the way a child loses sleep over an impending birthday.  This moment, right here, had been building for weeks.

And Louis was powerless to it—unable to stop it, especially now that it had started. 

He looked down and watched Harry’s eye’s as he widened his mouth to take him down and he saw the way the other man’s cheekbones appeared like runway lights dotting his ethereal face.  He noticed how Harry’s tongue was protruding obnoxiously like he were ready to catch a drip of ice cream off a soggy cone on a hot summer’s day.  And all he could do was beg. 

“God,  _ yes _ .  Please.  Make me  _ come _ .”

Harry smirked then, fucking bastard, of course he did—weeks of longing coming to a literal and figurative head right there in Louis’ cramped, dusty, dim office.  Waning daylight streaked the stained carpet and illuminated Harry’s milky white skin, making him look like he was lit from within.  He was really, really pretty, Louis thought idly, bracing himself against the hard edge of his desk.  Harry held his arse firm with one hand, the other buried between his cheeks.  Louis could feel his cock twitch in anticipation, he was so close already.  Just from kissing.  Just from the sight before him.  Just from fucking around behind his closed—not even  _ locked _ —office door with a gorgeous, completely off limits student. 

Harry’s mouth was breathing hot fire into the crease of his thigh.  His tongue curled up and out, tracing the line of where Louis’ leg met his groin.  Shivering, Louis reached out and tangled a hand into Harry’s curls, the silken material of his head scarf whispering against his fingertips.  He watched Harry’s mouth curve up into the ghost of a smile as he looked up, serene and beatific on his knees.  It was then, in that moment, that he chose to contradict his own image.  He wrapped his sinful tongue around the head of Louis cock, licking at the slit, while also sliding his finger in to the hilt, jabbing Louis’ prostate with alarming precision.

“Ah  _ fuck _ !” Louis exclaimed, white dots of flame dancing behind his eyes.   “H- _ how _ ?”

And that’s when Louis felt it.  He felt the weeks, the months of desire rolling over him like a saline wave of aquamarine tranquility.  The sureness of Harry’s hands on his body, his mouth taking him in, down, down, all the way down.  The inescapability of the boy on his knees and the way his heart plummeted in his chest, he knew, just  _ knew _ that this was the beginning; the start of something that he, himself, was powerless to. 

Louis felt his tummy coil and his body tense and he felt the way his student,  _ Harry _ , willed him to just let go.  He stared up at the ceiling and saw a beautiful array of colors swirling there, and he could feel the fire consuming him, Harry’s hot hands pulling him in, turning him inside out, and then, with a loose cry, he was falling apart.  The world buzzed around them, autumn watching them from the window. 

And Louis, Louis fell to his knees and could swear, with a sense of incredulity, that Harry’s kiss tasted like warm Sunday mornings and toasted marshmallows eaten by a fire and long nights of whispered secrets. 

And, also, maybe, just a little bit like come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	11. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants to make sure that it's clear the tattoo on Louis' bum is HIS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

“A penguin?”  

Louis shifted nervously, then chuckled, the sound forced, choked off. “Well, I couldn’t exactly tell the truth could I?”

Harry was sat in the plush chair in the corner of their room, arms folded across his chest, legs spread wide.  Louis was getting fidgety.   _ Good _ .  “A penguin?” Harry repeated.

“Jesus, Haz.  What did you want me to say?”  Louis bit his lip and slipped his shearling denim jacket off, the garment sliding to the floor with a soft swoosh.  Harry narrowed his eyes.  It looked like his darling husband may have shimmied his shoulders a bit more than necessary.

Harry stood up and walked toward Louis  He stared at him, eyes trained on Louis’ darkening eyes.  Louis squirmed but stayed still.  “You could have told the truth,” Harry said, voice barely a rough whisper.  

“Ha, ha,” Louis deadpanned, “Right.  Oh, just a big fat H on me arse. Because my husband likes to be reminded that I belong to him while he fucks me…”  Louis’ voice changed then, going from high and excited to deep and syrupy slow.  “Likes to be reminded that  _ this arse, _ ” he turned slowly, popping the object of Harry’s very intent interest into the cradle of his hips, “is his, and his alone.”  

So this was how they were going to play.

Harry’s hands flew to Louis’ hips, automatically, his body betraying him. Louis ground backwards, slow, fluid.  Harry did what he always did when Louis got his bum anywhere near his dick:  he matched each dirty hip roll with one of his own.  Friction, sweet friction, propelled him forward, making him almost forget about chastising his husband.

“You could have come up with something better…”  Harry stilled Louis’ hips with firm hands, digging into his soft hips.  “Something less...ridiculous.”  Harry yanked Louis backward so that their bodies were pressed together, his hand splayed across Louis’ lower abdomen. He licked a slow, wet stripe up the side of his neck.  He tasted the salty tang of sweat with an undercurrent of cologne and pure, sinful Louis.  

“Harry.”  Louis whined, his smaller hands scrabbling over Harry’s own. “Did you know...did you know that penguins —  _ ah _ !”  Harry bit softly at the tender skin where Louis’ shoulder met his neck.  “That —  _ ah fuck _ , that feels good--  “  Harry’s hands slid up Louis’ chest, under his shirt, tugging at his nipples.  Louis moaned and on the exhale rushed out, “Did you know that penguins mate for life?”  

Harry stopped moving, abruptly.  “They — ?   _ What _ ?”  And his brain whited out for a moment because... _ what _ ?

Regaining the ability to move, to think, Harry whispered into Louis’ ear, “Wanna see it…” the gravel in his voice cutting through the tension.  

“Anything.  Anything.”  Louis turned quickly in Harry’s strong embrace and dragged his lips across Harry’s, breathing into his open mouth.  He whispered, “ _ anything _ .”

Within seconds Harry had himself naked and Louis down to his underwear — a sight that made him falter, eyes wide in wonder and cock throbbing in the air between them.

Louis was wearing sheer black panties.

The wanker.

Louis bent over the bed, presenting himself to Harry.  He placed a hand on one arse cheek, just over the beautifully scripted H, and looked over his shoulder with a smirk.  “Well?  Here it is…”  his voice held a teasing challenge in it.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Harry gawked for a moment more before leaning down and licking right up Louis’ crack through the sheer panties.  Louis responded with a guttural moan and rubbed himself against the edge of the bed.  “Come  _ on _ Harry.”

Harry grinned and pulled the other man’s underwear down.  With his teeth.

“Oh fuck.   _ Haz _ .”

“Hm?”  Harry bit Louis’ arse right below the tattoo.  Louis let out a desperate groan, shoving his arse backward.  “Not very polite, love.” Harry said through a mouthful of arse.  

Louis’ back was arched beautifully, and Harry wanted to completely  _ destroy _ him.  He grappled for the lube on the end table and squirted a thick dribble down the long line that bisected his husband’s arse.  “So gorgeous,” he whispered, reverential, delighted at how Louis could fall apart so easily under his hands, under his mouth — under the weight of his words.

Harry thrust forward, his cock pulling Louis apart so that he could fuck between his cheeks.  Louis cried out and Harry stared at the mark on the other man’s arse.  The dark script was like a brand —  _ his _ mark on Louis’ arse.  One of his favorite parts of his husband’s body.  The part he noticed first, truthfully.  Followed by his eyes.  His beautiful, full of life, magical eyes.  The eyes that held every promise, every secret they’d kept between them all these years.

“Gonna — “ Harry grabbed grabbed for Louis’ bouncing arse, pulling him apart further.  He couldn’t finish his thought because the action of pulling Louis apart exposed his pretty pink hole and suddenly Harry was consumed by the fierce need to brand him further, to mark him with everything he had.  

“Come on babe,” Louis groaned, his voice raspy, needy, as he pushed his arse out further, “Come on... _ use me. _ ”

Harry moaned loud, loud enough that his voice cracked at the end in an uptick of desperation.  He dug his fingers into Louis’ skin, watching the white indents spread as he pushed up and down, back and forth, his cock sliding wetly between the hot, soft flesh.  Every time his ruby red cockhead peeked out, Harry felt the swirling white flame burning higher, brighter, faster.

“Fuck!”  Harry yelled, stilling, feeling Louis clench his arsecheeks around the thick line of his shaft and  _ god _ , that was so  _ hot _ .  He came, his body unfurling like a Christmas ribbon, spilling out into the space between them, covering his husband’s arse and lower back in viscous stripes of opaque.  

Harry breathed harshly through his nose, keeping his cock buried between Louis’ cheeks while Louis whined and rolled his hips in perfect minuscule circles against the duvet.  “I’ll take care of you baby…Just...” Harry croaked, his voice shot from moaning, from the fire of the emotions coursing through him.  He was shaking from the aftershocks, overwhelmed with how much he loved Louis, how much he wanted the entire world to know that they belonged to each other.  

Soon.

He bent down, tongue first, and lapped over the H with one steady, wet lick.  Louis whined under the heat of his tongue.

“That’s better,” Harry said, unable to hide the smugness in his voice, the sense of possession.  “Much better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	12. kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis tries out a costume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

The glossy pages of the magazine crinkled underneath Harry’s fingers. He idly flipped through the brightly colored copy of Vogue, pausing here and there to admire an outfit or a piece of jewelry. Really, he was only wasting time. Waiting for Louis. 

Always waiting for Louis.

If there was one thing he could count on it was Louis’ habitual ability to forever be tardy. Late to rehearsals. Late to get togethers with friends. Late for date night. Late. Like he was right now.

Harry sighed. At this rate they’d lose their dinner reservations. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, feet resting beneath the coffee table, Harry went back to the magazine. God. He was so glad that he got samples of so much designer wear. Took a lot of the tedium out of wearing the things he liked to wear. 

Glancing at the clock under the television, Harry exhaled again. He could feel a flush of anger rising in his chest. Why couldn’t Louis be on time? Just once in awhile? He was about to get up and start pacing when the front door to their flat swung open. Louis rushed in and shut the door with a loud slam.

“It’s about time,” Harry bit out, pushing himself off the couch.

Louis didn’t answer him, just came bounding into the lounge, a playful smirk on his face, all nervous energy and jittery limbs. 

“Well? What are you doing? We have to go. We’ve probably lost our table at Marco’s…” Harry stopped, because something wasn’t quite right. 

Louis was wearing ears.

Fluffy, black ears with a cottony, pink soft center, resting on a plastic headband atop his fluffy head of hair. 

“Lou? What the fuck is that on your head?”

Louis giggled and patted his head, tilting his chin up to look Harry in the eyes. “Hm?”

“Your head? And…why…” Harry gestured at Louis’ buttoned up trench coat. “Why are you wearing that coat? It’s fucking August and hot as blazes out there. You look like a flasher.”

“Funny you should say that…” Louis voice was musical and tinged with whimsy as he started to untie the belt of the oversized trench.

“Hey…is that my co-“ The words were lost on Harry’s tongue as Louis shimmied his shoulders exaggeratedly and the coat cascaded to the floor at his ankles. 

Because Louis. Louis, the almighty love of Harry’s life, the only one that Harry has ever had eyes for, has ever wanted anything with and from…Louis was standing in front of him, in their living room, on a Wednesday night wearing black leather hot pants. And a short black crop top. And. And, as he twisted his body into a half turn, Harry spied the back of his shorts. The obscene leather shorts—that clung to every sinful curve of Louis’ wicked bum—included a black tail floating down from the centre. It was right…Oh God, right  _ there _ ... Harry felt his mouth go dry and his pulse quicken. He blinked rapidly and lost the ability to speak.

Louis’ soft, tiny hand caught the end of the tail and he stroked it lovingly, almost the same way he had stroked Harry’s cock many, many times before.

“Are you…are you a  _ cat _ ?” Harry felt like one of those cartoons where the caricature sees something incredulous and their eyes started spinning and bulging, a racket of springs and sprockets exploding and the tongue lolled out, rolling to the floor. He was that obnoxious in his full on gawking of the pretty, pretty boy in front of him.

Louis turned so that Harry could see the strong lines of his back, the solid muscles dipping into full curvy hips and ending in that luscious, edible arse of his. Harry felt a little wonky with the sudden rush of blood that filled his dick. He was speechless. And getting hard. Harder by the second.

“No, silly. Not a cat. A  _ kitten _ .” Louis purred. He purred, the little fucker. 

And then Harry remembered. Two days ago they’d had sex. Quick, almost perfunctory sex in the bathroom as Harry got out of the shower and Louis finished brushing his teeth. Louis jacked Harry off and Harry dropped to his knees, sucking Louis off frantically so they wouldn’t be late to a meeting. 

They were late anyway. 

But afterward, as Harry bent to kiss Louis quickly on the lips, before he smacked his bum to get him to hurry up, Harry had whispered, “Love you kitten.”

For which Louis had mocked him endlessly. 

“Oh, so I’m a kitten now?” and “do you like my pussy, Harold?” as well as “who’s a pretty kitty now, Harry?”

Harry laughed it off, beyond getting embarrassed with his insufferable boy anymore, and chalked it up to a slip of the tongue, a little pet name—no pun intended—that rolled off the tongue because they were in a hurry, tired and overworked, feeling the effects of too much work and not enough sleep. But now…

Now with Louis in front of him dressed like a literal fucking cat. Well, Harry couldn’t string together much more than a muffled choke of disjointed syllables.

Louis slid up to Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, lifting a leg high, high off the ground so that he could tuck his heel into the cleft of Harry’s arse. “Wanna fuck your pretty kitty, baby?”

Harry keened and every single nerve in his body screamed out “yes, fucking yes!” Without words, just guttural sounds of possession and need, Harry hoisted Louis over his shoulder and squeezed his leather-clad arse through the impossibly tight shorts. He stalked to their bedroom and, rather roughly, tossed Louis, his little kitten, onto the bed.

“Gonna fuck you kitten. Fuck you so hard.” Harry panted, ripping his expensive Dior shirt off of his body and practically tearing the white jeans off of his legs.

Louis arched on the bed and thrust his hips into the air seductively. “Yeah, gonna fuck your pretty kitty baby? Fuck me good?”

Harry tripped up on his jeans but barely blinked as he pulled himself off the floor and on to the mattress. He slid his greedy hands over Louis’ bare torso. Louis twitched underneath him and writhed, his body moving with feline grace over the duvet, tail smashed beneath him, ears askew on his mussed up head of auburn hair. “Yesssss…” Harry growled, yanking the leather shorts down his boyfriend’s thick thighs. 

Louis’ cock was full and straining away from his body as it sprang free from the confines of the leather shorts. He arched his back and looked at Harry beneath hooded eyelids, the bright blue of his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Gonna make me purr, Hazza? Make me… _ meow _ ?”

Harry almost came. Right then. Because, fuck, yes. He wanted to make Louis purr, meow, scream, scratch his own eyeballs out…he wanted his baby kitten to feel every inch of him shoving him up the bed with hot, intense, animal desire. Wanted him to know how crazy he made him, how much he wanted him now and always. Always.

Falling on top of Louis, feeling the heat of his body searing his bare skin, Harry fumbled for the lube. 

“Don’t need it, love.” Louis said, circling his hips so that his erection rubbed against Harry’s. Harry swore and dropped further down on the bed, on top of Louis, grinding down on Louis’ smaller body, hard and deep, the friction good…so, so  _ good _ . “Why do you think I was late?”

Harry skated his hand quickly down Louis’ body and fumbled at his entrance, and tentatively poked his middle finger inside the ring of trembling muscle. Louis was open. Wide open. And dripping wet. 

“Ah  _ fuck _ ,” Harry moaned, capturing Louis’ mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss. Louis gave back as good as Harry gave, nipping at Harry’s full bottom lip and arching his hips into every one of Harry’s thick, purposeful forward grinds. 

“Come on baby, fuck me. Fuck your kitten.”

Harry reached for the lube, this time actually getting it into his shaky hand, and wasted no time dripping it all over his aching, hard dick. Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s narrow hips and Harry lined himself up. Their eyes met, Harry feeling tears spring to his eyes. Louis was just so…much. Everything. Always. 

“Love you,” Harry whispered.

“Hm…love you too.” Louis ran his hands up and over Harry’s shoulders and tangled his fingers in the back of Harry’s hair, pulling Harry’s head so that he could stare deep into his eyes. “Now come on. Do it. Fuck me.”

Harry nodded and did as he was told.

The first thrust in had Louis arching his back and shouting, “Fuck, yes, god fucking damnit!”

The second thrust sent Louis up the mattress, Harry’s body fused with Louis’ in tangled passion. After that neither of them had any presence of mind to know what was said and who was doing what. It just felt good, so  _ fucking _ good. Harry chased his orgasm, knowing that when Louis was like this he wouldn’t last long…that he could come just from the way Harry felt, sounded, just from when he spilled inside him.

“Feel so…”—thrust, thrust—“good…fucking good,” Harry slurred, “Always. So good.”

“Yeah. Fuck yes!” Louis bit down on Harry’s shoulder and that was it. Harry came. Deep inside Louis, driving Louis over the edge himself. They shuddered around each other, panting loudly in each other’s ears. Harry swiveled his hips, drawing his orgasm out and making Louis feel it in his toes. Louis hummed and rocked into Harry, the two of them still joined, still close, still one.

Harry flopped down next to Louis and looked over at his boy, still laying spread eagle on the bed, flushed and sweaty, kitten ears hanging off the side of his head, eyes closed in bliss. He stretched luxuriously alongside his boyfriend, his little kitty. God. Louis was so much. 

Harry loved it. Loved him.

“Love you kitten,” he whispered into the warm, close air between them.

Louis trilled, low in his throat, sounding like a content cat curled up in the sunshine, full of warm cream and happiness. “Love you too, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	13. It's Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time apart is hard. Coming back together is easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

“Harder,  _ harder _ !”  

Hips slapping against the round curve of his ass.  High airy gasps from behind him, gravel filled grunts echoing— ricocheting off tiles, threaded with tension, desperate need.  The frustration tangible, taking shape like an angry storm — surrounding them, being cast out like a demon.

Being filled, mercilessly filled.  Friction and heat all consuming...all he wants, all he needs.  Alcohol coursing, rushing, lighting up his bloodstream — inhibitionless, wanton.   _ Fuck _ .  That’s it.  Right there.  Again.   _ Again _ .

“I can take it.  More!  God.  Fucking hell…”

Steady sure fingers dig into his sides, sure to leave marks.  Hot breath covering the back of his neck.  Slick, sweaty slide of skin against skin.  Teeth sinking into his shoulder, the pain of it like a leaden weight — trapping him here, on the earth, keeping him grounded.  That pressure.  Sublime.  Like nothing else.  Nothing he’s ever felt before.  Always so good.  Always exactly what he needs.

“ _ Please _ .”

His voice his hoarse, deep and thick.  Emotion, and want, and something he can’t describe, curl through the edges of it, making his eyes fill and his chest ache.  Long, lonely days, bleak with the nothingness of it, of what they’ve devolved into, what they’ve agreed to — memories that cloud his mind until the brutal hard pace slows into something permanent, something that brings him him back.  Brings him here.  Forcing him into the now, the present.  Something sensual, grinding, something that says _ I’ve got you.  I love you.  Let go.   _

“Shhh. ‘S ok. I’ve got you.”

Soft.  Self-assured, strong, with an edge of control.  Always there.  Always there even if he’s not.  Even when he’s far away, on another continent, another coast — always with him.  In his heart, wrapped up in his soul like a gift to open when it’s dark and endless and so fucking  _ awful  _ it’s all he can do to hold on, to keep on.  Always.

The roll of hips, languid.  Luxuriating in the feel of this.  Of being together.  Of being inside each other. Physically.  Emotionally.  And then, he’s out to sea, the waves undulating, twisting beneath him, taking him further, further.  It feels inevitable, like the edge of twilight, hovering at the horizon.  

Then, unbearable heat, constant.  Unpredictable but so familiar.  The edge of it like a sharp, piercing ache, unfurling in his center, opening like the new day dawning, bringing with it the golden light of promise, of beginning.  Again.

“ _ Please _ .”  His voice breaks and he cries out, the pressure, the heat, the everything of this.  Of him.  Of them.  

Faster.  Harder.  More, more.   _ More _ .  Now, now, now.  Please.  Oh god.  Yes.  God.

A hand, hot and firm.  Touching, sliding, pumping.  Up down, over, under everywhere.   _ Please _ .

“Fuck.”  He’s screaming it, feeling it, saying it.  Understanding that this is what it always comes down to.  Just the two of them.  Touching, feeling, speaking without words.  

“I love you.  I love you so fucking —” his voice comes like a soothing sunset.  The long night ahead stretching out before them, the days, hours, minutes, seconds leading to this moment in the past.  For now.  Because this is it.  Always it.  Together.  

“Love you.”  He answers back broken and torn, but strong enough to begin again.  And it’s enough.  It always is.  Even when it’s not.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	14. I've Been Waiting Such a Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis teases Harry with a little karaoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

If you asked Harry he’d say he noticed a person’s smile first.  Then maybe their eyes.   Oh, and sense of humor!  That was an important one.

But with Louis he didn’t notice those things first.  No, those things were all secondary.  There was one thing that Harry noticed first about Louis all those years ago.  One might say it was his finest  _ asset _ .  It was his round, a little more than a handful, completely bite-able, smackable arse. 

Fuck.  His arse was a thing of wonder. 

And right now, he was shaking his proverbial moneymaker for all it was worth.  Shakin’ what his mama gave him.  Shaking it and definitely not breaking it. 

 

_ Saturday in the park, _

_ I think it was the Fourth of July _

_ Saturday in the park, _

_ I think it was the Fourth of July _

Fuck knows where they were.  Harry thought New Zealand.  Somewhere called Wellington?  Days and nights all blended together when they were on tour.  But tonight was a special night.  They were celebrating.  Harry couldn’t remember what they were celebrating exactly.  He could, a while ago, remember, but that was about four gin and tonics ago.  Right now he couldn’t remember anything if he tried. 

Because Louis, his Louis, with the bum he could spend the rest of his days buried inside, was on stage belting out Chicago’s “Saturday in the Park”.  His tenor perfectly matched the melody and the slight rasp added just the right attribute to make the song soar.  He was beaming from ear to ear, the blue of his eyes piercing even in the dark light of the small club. 

It had been a hush-hush affair, loads of security and back door usherings, the party they were at  tonight.  Harry had worn a pair of gold lamé pants that Louis declared “illegal in 44 countries” and this gorgeous Marc Jacobs sheer number for his top, with flowers embossed in the sheer ivory fabric.  It all made Harry feel pretty.  It had made Louis feel dizzy, he had said, adjusting his cock in his tight black skinny jeans.  Harry had just winked and promised, “later”.

But right now, with a few drinks sloshing in his stomach and the sight of Louis carrying on on stage, Harry was pretty sure “later” was “right now”.  The stretchy gold pants did absolutely nothing to hide the growing state of his, um,  _ happiness _ at seeing his significant other strut his stuff in mouthwatering tight pants of his own and a skin tight t-shirt that fit his body like a glove.  He was going to need to make a hasty exit, and soon by the looks of it.  He grinned at his little inside joke, staring down at the outline of his own best asset, growing in his pants at the moment.

Draining the last of his glass, Harry caught Louis’ eye.  Louis gave him a sinful smirk and turned on the ball of his right foot, pirouetting like a world-class ballet dancer, and then, then, the little fucker, just stuck it out.  IT.  His arse.  And gave it a little wiggle.  All while looking at Harry over his shoulder.  As if it were just the two of them in the room.  Harry’s own private dance.  Just for him. 

_ And I've been waiting such a long time _

_ For today _

Yeah.  They needed to get out of here.  Like now.  Or else Harry couldn’t be responsible for his actions. 

Harry stood up, upsetting the small bistro table with his long legs—not that he could be bothered to care—and he stalked forward.  It was like his vision narrowed to a single, laser like, focal point:  Louis.  Must.  Get.  To.  Louis. 

Louis’ eyes widened in alarm but he kept singing, camping it up for his adoring fans.  Well, fan, really.  Harry was probably the only one paying attention at this point since everyone else in the room was drinking, playing darts, or talking.  Louis was putting on a show.  And it was for Harry and Harry alone. 

 

_ People reaching, people touching _

_ A real celebration _

_ Waiting for us all _

_ If we want it, really want it _

Harry reached the stage and pawed at Louis’ ankle.  Louis just kicked him away, scampering out of reach.  Harry grimaced but was undeterred.  Like an animal stalking his prey, he locked eyes with Louis.  Louis simpered and kept singing, rolling his hips indecently, showing off his own growing… _ happiness _ at the situation.  

Harry stalked to the side of the stage and took the 6 stairs up two at a time.  He felt the tightness in his pants acutely now.  There was only one thing that would cure this problem.  And it was shaking practically in his face now, taunting him, inviting him to pursue, give chase. 

_ And I've been waiting such a long time _

When Harry caught Louis, the smaller boy squirming in his arms, Harry felt a sense of pure victory course through his veins.  He may have let out a small—or not so small—victory cry, as his arms wrapped around Louis’ thick thighs.  He could smell Louis’ arousal, seeping through his pants ( _ Christ _ )—nice to see he wasn’t the only one feeling this way.  Harry was sure that he’d never, ever, felt this hot, this on  _ fire _ in his entire life.

Well, that was probably a lie.  Who was he kidding?  He fucked Louis Tomlinson on the regular. 

This was kind of a common occurrence.

But anyway.  Louis.  Wriggling, protesting, Louis was slung over his shoulder and Harry, like a cavemen of mammoth proportion simply smacked his boyfriend’s arse, reveling in the jiggle of firm flesh parallel to his face, his  _ mouth _ for Christ’s sake. 

“Let me down, you oaf!” Louis shrieked.

“I think you’re quite done.” Harry replied, surprised at the gruffness in his voice, the simple determination in it. 

Louis smacked at Harry’s bum a few times, head hanging limply over Harry’s back.  He traded in the smacking after a second or two for kneading and caressing, driving a fevered moan from deep inside Harry’s body.  Louis giggled, the sound of it soft and cajoling to Harry’s ears. 

“Enough.” Harry chastised, secretly loving it, loving that they could still get to each other like this. 

Harry kicked the back door to the bar open.  Well, not really kicked.  He nodded politely at the security guard stationed there who opened the door and motioned for the town car to ease forward.  But in his mind, Harry had kicked the door open with a growl, sending splintered wood flying in all directions. 

The driver opened the door and Harry threw Louis inside.  Well, not really threw.  Deposited him gently.  With a small kiss to the forehead.

He climbed inside and found himself with a lapful of Louis.

“Love you my Hazza, my little caveman.”

Harry preened in Louis’ arms, already rocking his erection up into Louis’ demin clad arse, moaning deep and loud at the sensation of Louis’ warm body on his.  “That’s right.  Your BIG caveman,” he said, thrusting up roughly for emphasis, chuckling, deep and throaty.

“That’s right darling, my big strong caveman.”  Louis soothed Harry, kissing over his cheekbones and eyelids.  “Now take me home and show me what you can do with that big, big thing in your pants.”

Harry grinned, bright and wide, before calling over the front seat, “Take us home, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	15. I'll Have What He's Having

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis & Harry go shopping for a new...toy. There's a miscommunication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

“Which one do you like, Haz?”  

Harry felt cool dry fingertips trail down his forearm.  It made him shiver.  It was about a hundred degrees inside the store--or maybe he was hot because of the embarrassment flooding through his body--but he still felt Louis’ fingertips like icy pinpricks along his skin, cutting right through him, making him resist the urge to close  his eyes and just  _ feel _ .  

“Haz?”

“Hm?  Oh, right.  Um...Well...don’t you think you should be the one to, you know?  Pick it out?”  

Louis looked up at him curiously with bright blue eyes, eyes that Harry never tired of looking into.  “Why would I pick it out?   _ Oh _ .  Unless you want...want me to pick out the one I think you’d like best?”  His voice was whisper soft and quiet, just a hint of arousal and mischief beneath the conversational tone.  

“Well.  Yeah.  That works too.”  Harry looked out over the display of vibrators and dildos, an array of colors, shapes and sizes making it a bit hard to concentrate.  There were so many!  Ones with 5 speeds, ones that vibrated, ones that didn’t, ones that were “lifelike” and ones that were showy and almost ungodly huge (like, how does that fit in someone’s arse?).  

Louis tangled their fingers together.  “Babe.  Whatever one you pick will be great.  I just can’t wait to fuck you with it.”

Harry jolted in surprise, “What?  I’m--you--I’m not using it.  You are!”

Louis pursed his pretty pink lips in a defensive gesture.  Harry watched them tighten and then smooth out into their normal graceful bow.  So pretty.  He felt his cock stir just thinking about those lips and what they were capable of. He really wanted to kiss them right now...just lean forward, feel the smooth caress of Louis’ lips against his own, smell the familiar scent of Louis and home.  He was willing to bet Louis smelled a bit like spicy like the lunch they’d shared and maybe like the glogg they drank at the outdoor market afterward. 

“Harold!”  

Harry didn’t realize it but he’d drifted closer to his boyfriend, no doubt staring at him with the “frog eyes” that Louis often teased him about.  He quickly stepped back.  Concentrate.  Concentrate.  Sex toy.  Buying sex toy with boyfriend.  Boyfriend with magical lips.  Fuck.   _ Concentrate _ .  

“What did you say?”

“Honestly, Harry.  You are like the world’s biggest child.  I said, you should pick it because obviously you are using it.  Not me.”

Harry balked, “What?  Why me?  Why would you assume…?”

Louis arched an eyebrow, looking imperious and impish all at once.  “Well I’m not going to be the one to have some foreign object shoved up my —”

Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him loudly.  “Jesus Christ, Lou.  You’re so loud!”

Louis bit him.  And then licked him.  Of course he did.  

Harry’s dick responded, as did his heart rate.  He dropped his hand and looked at Louis, love drunk and stupid.  

“Baby.  It’s just that…” Louis moved closer, pressing his body up against Harry’s, so close that Harry could smell his cologne, and the acrid burn of the Swedish liquor, and he felt the immense heat from his boyfriend’s body, seeping into his own so that he felt like he was burning from the inside out.  “I thought you’d want to be first, you know...since you are kinda more brave than me?  And you are so big and strong and you always like to protect me and you just take care of me so well…”

Harry was sure that Louis’ eyes were a swirling vortex of blue, like in a children’s cartoon, where he was being drawn in, mesmerized, cast under a devious spell.  And, like the unwitting victim in a children’s cartoon, Harry was sunk.  Completely duped.  Fell for it.  Hook, line and dildo.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Ok.”  He heard his voice, hoarse and shaky, but didn’t quite recognize it as his own.  He was gone.  

“That’s the spirit, boyfriend.”  Louis stepped away, leaving Harry cold and dizzy.  Harry shook his head and adjusted his tight jeans, the semi in his pants uncomfortable as he walked through the adult toy shoppe.  

He watched Louis bend down, noting the curve in his hips and the sinful way his lower back sloped into the full round swell of his bum.  Harry’s mouth felt dry.  He really wanted to run his tongue up Louis’ elongated spine, taste the salt of sweat and feel the way Louis relaxed and then fell apart, underneath him.  

“This one will do.”  Louis quipped, standing upright and heading toward the counter with purpose.  

All Harry could do was follow, his mind clouded and his vision filled with Louis, Louis, Louis.

***

After a mad dash home, some frantic kissing in the foyer, the fumbling of clothing down the hall and a crazed search for the lube, they were naked and on their bed.  Harry’s cock was hard and heavy and Louis’ eyes were blown and his chest rose and fell in tandem to Harry’s own breathing.  Christ, he was beautiful.  His skin was dewy and rose-gold, lips ruby red and hair tousled on his head like auburn feathers.  Harry loved him so, so much.  And, in moments like these, when it felt like the entire world stood still and it was just them, wrapped up in each other, Harry felt so overcome with the weight of it all.  

“Love you,” he moaned, as Louis wrapped his hand around his cock.  

Louis licked over his pulse point, scraping his teeth and then biting down, softly, without much force--but it was enough to make Harry shudder and fall pliant in the other man’s arms.  “Love you too, sweetheart,”  Louis replied, slowly jacking Harry in what felt like a decidedly unhurried pace.  

That wouldn’t do.

“Come on.”  Harry pleaded, pumping his hips into his boyfriend’s grip, fucking himself into his hand wantonly.  The dry slide was just a tiny bit painful, but he  _ needed _ .  So much.

“Sshh.  Let’s get you set up, yeah.  On your back.  So I can see you.”  Louis’ voice was quiet, self assured, and it made Harry move--if only to please Louis.  As always. 

The rustle of the paper bag made Harry sit up, though.  The remembrance of what was about to happen making him nervous, fidgety.  His cock flagged a bit.  Just a bit.  Because.  The idea of fucking himself on something other than Louis’ cock, Louis’ tongue, Louis’ fingers...it was sort of intimidating.  In a way.  Harry worried it would hurt.  Thought it wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , feel as good--as perfect--as his boyfriend.  

He was starting to have second thoughts. 

Louis opened the bright pink bag from the shoppe and ripped open the packaging.  Harry sat up and felt his eyes go wide at the object that fell to the duvet between his spread legs.  “Magic Love Wand?” he squawked.

Louis looked at him blankly, as if the name scrawled across the packaging wasn’t the most absurd thing in the world..  He brushed the packaging and paper bag to the floor, picking up the toy.  To Harry it looked like a torture device.  A very, very pretty torture device.  But torturous nonetheless.  

The “wand” was sleek and delicate, bright polished silver in color and it was curved slightly with a handle on one end that looked like a large polished ball.  The other end was a series of oblong beads, graduated in size from about the size of a grape to a small plum, just beneath the handle.  Harry gulped.  He wasn’t sure he was ready for all of them up to the plum.  That was a lot of...erm...fruit. 

“Lou…” he began, “Um...that’s like.  A lot?  And…”

“What are you on about?  It’s fine.  It’s fine.”  The second ‘it’s fine’ seemed more like a reassurance for Louis than Harry.  

“It’s like...something from a Harry Potter porno!”  The words flew out of Harry’s mouth, unbidden, like his sudden probably--most likely--irrational (maybe) fear of the toy.

“ _ Baby _ ,” Louis pressed the metal wand up against Harry’s inner thigh, the cool metal against his hot skin jarring.  As Louis kissed his jawline, Harry whined, a slightly worried, slightly fevered sound erupting from the back of Harry’s throat, “I’ll be right here.  You can just say stop if you want out, yeah?”  He kissed up the column of Harry’s neck as he leaned forward in the V of Harry’s legs.  Louis nosed behind Harry’s ear and whispered, “You’ll look so hot, baby.  C’mon, drive me crazy, you do.  All the time.”  

Louis’ voice was like some kind of mystical magical voodoo or something because Harry found himself nodding and falling backward to the pillow, opening his legs further and raising his knees up.  “Yeah, yeah. Ok.” 

Louis smiled and kissed down Harry’s chest, licking out over one of his nipples, the sudden wetness startling to Harry, making him jerk.  He cried out when Louis bit down, the electricity of it shooting through his body like venom, poisoning him for Louis, only Louis.  

“That’s right darling, relax.  Relax.”  Louis’ voice was muffled from the crease in Harry’s leg and hip.  Harry felt light fingertips dance over his balls, making him whine.  Louis’ fingers were pure bliss, creating this intense need in Harry to want, want, want.  

Bucking his hips up in the air, chasing non-existent friction, Harry said, hoarse and needy, “Ok, Lou.  Ok.  ‘M ready.”

He heard the lube cap popping and felt a reassuring hand on his knee.  Louis’ body was warm, creating a maddening humidity between Harry’s open legs, the feeling like a storm rolling in on a hot summer day.  The air was charged between them and Harry sighed with the comfort of it all.  He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips to give Louis more access.  And then, as he started wanking himself slowly, in time to the sound of Louis’ breathing, he felt it.

The cold, press of metal against his most sensitive spot, the unprotected, tight, tight wrinkled skin quivering against the almost intrusion.

“Owowowow!  Stop.  Stop!”

Louis sat up abruptly and stared down at Harry.  Harry felt sweat break out all over his body as he clenched his hole at the nothing that had been replaced by the toy.  

“Babe.  I barely…”

“I can’t.  I just can’t.”  Harry was embarrassed at how strangled his voice sounded.  

The two men looked at each other, staring into one another’s eyes.  Harry saw concern and worry, replaced by something more fierce, determined.  Something that looked like a point to be proved.

“Fine.  Budge over.”  Louis tone was short, clipped, but still warm.  How the fuck does he do that, Harry wondered as he shuffled over to the other side of the bed.  Louis could sound so sweet and loving, all while maintaining this cool veneer of control, complete mastery of the situation--or person, in Harry’s case.  Louis always had control over him.  And that was perfectly fine with Harry.

Louis got up on his knees with his face turned to the side, bright eyes midnight blue and staring right at Harry, right inside of Harry, making him feel singed and quaking.  It was the best kind of feeling.  He brought one hand down along his tummy, between his body and the bed, and through his open legs.  He used his other hand to feed himself the metal wand.  He gripped it with nimble fingers and groaned, “Lube, love.  Lube.”

Harry scrambled upright then, moving toward the end of the bed where he could see Louis’ bum better.  He grabbed for the open bottle of lube, leaking onto the duvet, and poured it straight from the bottle to the place where the first orb of the toy was about to breach his boyfriend’s hole.  The squirting noise was obnoxious, but Louis didn’t seem to hear it and Harry couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to it because there, right before his very eyes, was Louis’ hole opening and closing around the slightly angled tip of the toy, almost like it was...drawing it in, pulling it inside his hot, waiting body.  

And, oh fuck.  That was...Harry’s cock was almost painful from how hard it was, standing away from his body. He wanted to jack off quick and hard, all over Louis’ arched back but he didn’t.  He couldn’t.  He was immobilized by the sight in front of him.

With a small bit of effort, Louis pushed the toy forward, pulling his legs open wider, arching his back deeper.  The end popped inside, inaudible, but loud like sunrays streaming across a turbulent sky.  Harry moaned.  Louis cried out.

“Lou--you...are you ok?”

“Oh Harry.   _ Oh Harry _ .  You should...fucking hell.  It’s like... _ christ _ .”  Louis’ voice was high and reedy, just like it sounded when Harry was pounding into his prostate--that kind of fervor that came from immense pleasure, the kind you just can’t stop, can’t even begin to fathom--you just  _ feel _ .  Take it in and feel it all.  

“Tell me.  God.  Louis.  You look so…”  Harry knelt up then, shifting so his body was between Louis’ open legs, sitting up on his knees, moving for the lube again.  He squirted some over Louis’ pink, slightly stretched hole, and then gave himself a generous squirt as well.  As he started sliding his hand over his rigid cock, Louis pushed the second bulb in. 

“Fuck!  Harry!”  Louis cried out, his head flying off the pillow, the bend in his back almost painful-looking.  

“Tell me.  Lou... _ fuck _ .  Tell me.”  Harry’s voice was choked off as he stripped away at his cock, staring down at the glinting metal and the wet glisten of Louis’ rippling hole. It was so fucking beautiful.  Amazing.  He couldn’t look away. 

Louis moaned as he pushed the toy inside of himself deeper, experimentally, letting out the prettiest whine Harry had ever heard.  “It’s like...shit.  It’s cold, Haz.  Cold but then it feels so hot inside.  Like it’s melting and fucking hell, I think I can almost...feel my…”  He pulled it out a little and then, on the push back in he yelled out.  And Harry knew, just knew, that he hit his spot. Harry’s own hole throbbed in anticipation for him.

Harry watched as Louis pushed it in, the third orb popping inside with a wet, hungry slurp.  

Louis’ body arched violently as Louis started humping forward on the bed and then fucking backward on the toy.  Each fuck backward and pull forward had Louis keening, high and uncontrolled, almost as if the toy were actually pushing the noise out of him.  Harry felt himself sync up with his wanking, unconscious to the fact that his body always followed Louis’.  He heard himself groan as his orgasm started to build in the base of his belly, swirling throughout his body like a dust storm gaining speed.  

“God.  Harry.”  Louis moaned, loud and high as he pushed the next, almost impossibly large (although, if Harry was honest--it was probably about the size of his dick when erect--but still) bulb inside his body.  “Fuck!”

“Right there, god.  Louis.  Look--so--fucking.  God.”  Harry moaned, dragging out the last word like it truly was a prayer as he watched his boyfriend’s body not only accommodate the latest intrusion, but seem to welcome it, hugging it tight and fast inside of him so that Harry could almost feel the snug fit, could practically sense Louis all around him, tightening, clenching, so hard, so hot…

“AAAAH!”  Harry was coming all over Louis’ back, his orgasm fierce and blinding, making his entire body go rigid.  His body felt hot, consumed, completely lost in that floaty place between this place and the next--no time, no space...only pleasure.  And love.  Fierce unabiding love that completely swallowed him whole, enveloping his body and lighting his skin with hot, licking flames that raged on and on and on.

As he came back, Harry watched Louis arch his back deeply one last time as he cried out “Harry!” and then fell limp against the bed, hips still circling, body wracked with slight tremors that seemed to zip through him at random.  

Harry sat back on his haunches and stared at Louis’ hole and the way it quivered around the toy, Louis’ hand slack and unmoving.  His breath was coming hard and so was Louis’ from the way his lungs seemed to expand and contract, making the skin around his back and sides stretch and subside, stretch and subside.  

Harry ran a hand through his sweaty hair and watched as Louis started to pull the toy out.  “Want me to…?”

“Careful,” Louis whispered.

Slowly, gently, Harry pulled each bulb out one by one until the toy was completely free.  It was wet and shiny lying between Louis’ legs.  Louis groaned when the last part of it slipped free from his body.  Harry fell on top of him then, completely spent, not caring about the come smearing between their hot, sweaty bodies.  

“That was…”  Louis grinned, Harry sensing the movement against his cheek that was pressed to the side of Louis’ face.

Harry wriggled a little so that his still half hard dick slipped between Louis’ arse cheeks.  “Hm.  Think I’ll try it next.”

Louis was still and silent for a moment before he suddenly flipped them, using Harry’s post-sex stupidness to his advantage.  He straddled Harry’s hips and fell forward, smashing his still wet, sticky cock between them.  Wincing at the sensitivity, he whispered, against Harry’s open mouth, “I don’t think so.  ‘S mine now Harold.  Don’t even try it.”

And, as they kissed each other senseless, sloppy, wet and filled with love and affection, Harry started scheming all the ways he would get the Magic Wand of Love inside of him.  Probably with Louis’ help.  If he played his cards right.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	16. Hands Like Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis loves Harry hands. His fingers, specifically. Harry has a little fun with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

It hadn’t always been like this.  

Back in the beginning, when they were still shiny and new, they’d fumbled through awkward, quick, frenzied encounters.  It was always urgent.    _ Intense _ .  The two of them like a set of sparklers that had been lit together, existing in a clipped space in time where all that mattered was that they burned the brightest before they went dark. 

They had one common goal back then:  to get off.  And they did.  Frequently.

But over time, something changed.   _ They changed. _  They fell down the swirling, twisting and twirling spiral of want and desire into a fierce kind of love that became  _ them _ .  As their relationship grew, they learned one another’s bodies, the sounds spilling from  the other’s mouth and the particulars of movement—an arch here, a twitch there.  Goals changed and getting off became something else entirely.

“H. We don’t have all day here.”

“Gimme a…”  Harry’s face was scrunched up in that dorky—yet undeniably sexy way of his—deep crease between his eyes, cheeks pink, brow sweaty.  His full bottom lip was trapped between his teeth as he reached, prodded, pressed until finally—

“Ah!   _ Fuck _ !   _ Yes _ .  Right.  Fucking.   _ There _ .”

And that was it.  Harry’s long fingers curled inside of him, his middle finger possessing some kind of creepy homing ability.  Like it just  _ knew _ where his spot was.  Knew it and found it with frightening precision.  Each and every fucking time.  Like an arrow hitting a target. 

“Fuck, yes.  Babe.  That’s—“   Louis lost his breath because Harry was intently fucking him and massaging his prostate with that charmed finger of his.  Fingering him like his life depended on it.  Making him see stars.  Making him see  _ galaxies _ .

“Know you love this…when I…”  Harry’s voice was scratchy and raw like it always got when he was in control.  But Louis knew he was just hanging on to the vestige of it by a thinly stretched thread—ready to snap, break at the slightest change in dynamic, yielding to Louis.  It was all about balance. 

And how much Louis felt like letting Harry think he was in charge. 

“Don’t—don’t you fucking— _ aaah _ !  Dare.”  Louis’ opened his legs wider, feet planted firmly to the ground below, the carpet burning his backside (he would complain  _ endlessly _ about that later).  He fucked down onto Harry’s fingers, making the sensation, deeper, more intimate—but infinitely dirtier somehow. 

“Your  _ Love Button _ …”

“Harold.  I swear to god…”  Louis felt his orgasm building.  Felt it deep inside, like a rubber band pulling backwards, backbackback…until it shot forward, hurtling through time and space like some kind of white hot, body-numbing rocket, releasing Louis into the darkness, untethered and wild.

“ _ Point of Passion _ …”  Harry doubled his efforts.  Louis felt the first wave wrack his body.  Pins and needles sparked in his low back, traveling up his spine as his abdomen clenched.

“Fucking.   _ Fuck _ !”  Louis was coming, his body jolting in wave after wave of pleasure.  He heard himself making these  _ noises _ —these moaning, keening noises.  And it was so much.  He couldn’t contain any of what he was feeling inside his body—it poured out of him like lava exploding from a volcano, hot and thick, driven completely by a deep, deep need, something he could even begin to fathom.    

Harry kept the pressure on his prostate, firm—maddeningly so—as come shot up Louis’ chest.  Louis threw his head back, surrendering himself and his entire being to Harry, helpless to stop it.  He couldn’t if he tried.  Didn’t want to, either.

“ _ Harry _ !”  Louis felt as if Harry was traveling  _ through  _ him.  Seeping into him from the inside out.  Louis could  _ feel  _ him, and his beautiful, golden heart beating in time with his own.  Could feel him everywhere all at once until he was the only thing he could comprehend.

Slowly, feverishly slow, Harry climbed up Louis’ body, slick fingers gripping Louis’ hip that was still shaking with aftershocks.  The Christmas tree lights illuminated Harry’s skin in blue and green, soft and almost ethereal, lighting up his hair like spun gold.  Louis let Harry kiss him, reverent little pecks all over his face and along his collar bones and up and down the column of his neck. 

Louis smiled, warm and sated, and so, so happy with his boy on top of him and his legs still shaking from getting fingered extraordinarily well—as usual, what with Harry’s magic fingers and all.  Harry’s lips brushed up against his ear and he whispered, slow and sly, the teasing loud and clear in his husky voice “Your… _ Sexy Switch _ .”

“God damn it, Harry!”  Louis groaned, slapping weakly at the bigger man on top of him.  “See if I blow you now.”

Harry rolled off of him, his big mouth stretched into a goofy grin--even bigger cock bobbing upright in the air.  He was fucking gorgeous.  Louis glanced down at Harry’s dick and lost any sense of revenge that may have been brewing.  He moved quickly, wriggling between Harry’s long legs.  As he took him down in a loud, wet swallow he heard Harry choke back a laugh as he groaned simultaneously in relief.

_ Tomorrow _ .  Louis would get back at him tomorrow.  Because right now he was distracted--the taste and feel of Harry on his tongue and the sound of him unraveling in his ears--driving him to show Harry how much he loved and appreciated him.  And his talented, magical fingers.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	17. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Harry can't say all he feels for Louis. So, he shows him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday Smut Series (SSS) was originally started and posted on tumblr and then grew into the behemoth you have before you today. This is a collection of drabbles and one shots that are my smuttiest imaginings of Harry and Louis. Enjoy.
> 
> All of the art that you will find here is courtesy of twopoppies [ twopoppies](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)   
> If the original art is not here you can find it in my SSS tag on tumblr. 
> 
> Speaking of ME on tumblr. Come visit me here [tumblr](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com)

**Everything**

How can anyone describe a love so deep, so fathomless — so utterly and completely vast?  There really are no words.  It is indescribable. 

It is  _ everything _ .

Harry has tried.  God knows he’s tried to say it all.  Some of it, anyway.  To  _ speak  _ it.  He’s written shadows and illusions of it.  Phrases and words eked out on paper in the early light of dawn — melodies meant for the world to hear — but with sacred meanings only the two of them share.  But even those attempts...they weren’t enough.  They couldn’t begin to paint the sweeping imagery of sunrises and sunsets and long days and short nights and all the times in between.  The moments where they locked eyes and whispered “I love you” into each other’s souls.  The seemingly insignificant brush of a knuckle or the slide of thigh against thigh — the significance immense.  Important.  Like building a foundation that exists for the sole purpose of being  _ indestructible _ .  Indescribable.

So Harry does the only thing he knows how.  He shows Louis.  

He shows him with warm hands that float over even warmer skin.  He shows him with lips that whisper prayers and reverent silent poetry against a wildly fluttering pulse.  He shows him with a knowledge that comes from years of being  _ them _ , understanding how each touch can build and destroy — take apart and put back together.  He shows him with his body.  

When words aren’t enough.  

When Louis feels dark and low, nearly swallowed up by the weight of it all, all that is life, Harry pulls him close and finds ways to make him forget — help him remember all the reasons  _ why _ .

Now is one of those times.  One of those times when Louis looks weary, so tired he can hardly speak.  His eyes are dull and his hands shake.  And Harry’s heart is so, so broken for him.  He never thought he could feel the slicing depth of someone else’s pain like this.  But he can.  God, he can.  He wishes he could take it all.  Take all of it and shroud Louis from all of what seeks to destroy him, render him broken.  

Sinking inside of him, Harry whispers, “ _ loveyou, loveyou, loveyou _ .”

Face to face, their eyes reflect a bottomless depth of emotion that is...so much.  No words.  

_ “I know...want...make me forget...need...I know...I know...I know.” _

Harry completely consumes Louis.  He takes him away from this plane and drives him into the next — floating, flying...completely lost in just the feel, the smell the sensation of  _ them _ .  And for a few brief moments it is everything.  It is everything words cannot express.  It is cresting a mountain, soaring over the sea.  It is surrendering in it entirely.  

“ _ Please...more...please...god...everything...yes. _ ”

Harry feels Louis’ hands on his skin and his breath on his neck.  Feels his heart thumping in time with his own.  When their mouths meet for what feels like the first time, but is probably the millionth, Harry tastes cigarettes and the sugar sweetness of cherry candy canes, and maybe the bitter tang of whiskey.  Louis’ strong thighs wrap around him and Harry feels like  _ screaming _ he is so, so in love.  And so fucking desperate to make it all go away.  Everything about this moment makes him want to lose himself.  Makes him want to give it all to Louis.   _ Take _ it all from Louis.

“ _ Baby _ ,” Harry whispers, voice hoarse and broken, riding on the panicked edge of desire and mania — Louis’ body holding him everywhere so tight.  So perfect.  

Louis cants his hips and tangles demanding fingers in Harry’s unruly hair.  “Fuck, I’m close.  So fucking close.”

Harry  _ knows _ Louis is close — knows exactly what he needs.  He might not be able to say the words that make everything better, and he might not have words to tell Louis everything he means to him.  But he has his body and his mouth and his hands and every single cell that screams out to please Louis, take care of him...take him away from all of this.  Make him forget.  

Hips move and lips slide against each other.  There is noise, maybe even music, but it becomes secondary to the conversation flowing between their bodies in the darkness.  

There have been times before when Harry has felt this — this insane closeness — to Louis, this feeling of not knowing how to be separate beings. But  _ nothing _ like this.  Harry thinks for a moment it might be the pain that magnifies it.  Because he knows that for every thing in this world there is an equal and probable exact opposite.  Louis’ pain is neverending.  But so is Harry’s love. 

So much he can’t say.

And in the silence of their room, as Louis leaps for the edge, clinging to Harry with sweat soaked limbs and the bright pain of love blooming in his chest, there is this moment of clarity.  A moment when Louis understands.  He  _ hears _ all that Harry doesn’t say.  

And it is everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


	18. gin and paisley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey! Hey! You look like a man who knows his way around a closet!”
> 
> “What?” Harry feels a hot hand on the bare skin of his forearm and he looks down at it with disdain, shaken from his sullen thoughts at the intrusion. He follows the line of the hand, up the curve of a paisley covered, toned bicep — the fabric sheer and soft looking — to meet cobalt blue eyes that dance in the low light. The eyes are on a face that Harry thinks looks like fucking art, it’s so beautiful.
> 
> This drink must be stronger than Harry is used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute since I wrote a Sunday Smut Series installment. For the lovely @melmanpur and her mystery friend. Hope you enjoy this--thanks for the inspiration!
> 
> Thank you, also, @twopoppies for the quick beta. xxoo

“Two gin and tonics please.” The bar is hot and crowded but the music is good and the boys are pretty so...Harry thinks it could be worse.

As he waits for the drinks he glances toward the bar and,  _ fuck _ . It actually is worse. Jeremy, the guy he came with — the guy he was hoping to literally  _ come _ with by the end of the night — is grinding with some other dude on the dance floor.  

And. Well.  _ Fuck _ .

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the perspiration slide against his palm, knowing his freshly shorn quiff is standing on end haphazardly but he’s not really concerned now. Not now, especially since Jeremy is clearly not in the same realm as him as far as the outcome of the evening is concerned. 

The thing is, Harry is tired of being strung along by Jeremy. It feels like Harry’s only good enough to hang out with when no one else is around and Harry jumps every time he calls.  Mostly because Jeremy has amazing blue eyes and an ass to die for, but,  _ shit _ . There’s other fish in the sea, right?   

Or something.

He pays for the drinks, thanks the bartender and turns toward the dance floor. He spies Jeremy dragging his dance partner toward the loo and that kind of seals the deal for Harry. Now what is he supposed to do? He decides he might as well get drunk, destined to be alone. More like destined to a lonely wank in his empty bed tonight, he’s thinking as he heads toward an empty table on the far side of the room. He’s planning on deleting Jeremy’s number from his phone.  Definitely deleting. Deleting any aspirations of getting anywhere near that spectacular ass. Ever.    

He walks toward the table, sipping the drink in his right hand purposefully, not really looking at the faces he passes, just eager to get to the table, alone, with his thoughts. And alcohol. He’s a master pity party planner. And he’s planning a big one.

“Hey! Hey! You look like a man who knows his way around a closet!”

“ _ What _ ?” Harry feels a hot hand on the bare skin of his forearm and he looks down at it with disdain, shaken from his sullen thoughts at the intrusion. He follows the line of the hand, up the curve of a paisley covered, toned bicep — the fabric sheer and soft looking — to meet cobalt blue eyes that dance in the low light. The eyes are on a face that Harry thinks looks like fucking art, it’s so beautiful.

This drink must be stronger than Harry is used to.

“Excuse me?” He asks, staring into the stranger’s eyes, now crinkled in mirth, showing a mouth with sharp little teeth and the tip of a wet tongue darting out to swipe over shiny red lips.

“You know? Fashion,” the boy says, slowly, looking Harry up and down, eyes roaming everything from Harry’s legs to the tips of his ears. Harry feels himself flush under the scrutiny. It’s unnerving. And  _ hot _ .

“F — fashion?”

The boy flips his hair off his forehead and hums, glancing at Harry’s left hand. “That for me?”

“Huh?” Harry follows the line of his sight and sees the other drink.  _ Jeremy’s _ drink. Without a second thought he smirks. “Yeah, yeah.  Um...here.”

The blue eyed wonder folds his fingers around the glass, slotting them alongside Harry’s and Harry feels electricity shoot through him — bright and pure, something like a revelation. It’s really hot in here. “Swear you didn’t slip something in it?”

Harry’s confused so he just stares down at the boy, lost in the mirth swimming in the blue-green sea of his eyes. “You know? Drugs?”

“Wha — ? No, I...I never,” Harry sputters and the boy laughs, loud and clear, carrying over the loud, thumping beat of the music and the boisterous shouts of the other bar-goers.  

“Relax, babe. Teasin’ ya.”

Harry relaxes. Immediately. The boy’s voice and touch — his hand is still on Harry’s — are making Harry himself feel drugged. He’s so soft looking, this boy. His face with the auburn scruff and the golden colored skin under the blue light of the bar, all soft and gentle and his eyes...his eyes are sort of like a vortex of calm. Harry likes them a lot. Likes all of this boy. A lot.

“So,” the boy takes Jeremy’s gin and tonic and takes a long, slow drag from the cocktail straw, his lips pursing delicately around the slim green plastic. “What do  _ you _ think of my shirt?”

Still confused, and a bit turned on, Harry tilts his head. “Your shirt?”

“Right.” Another drink. “My shirt. My so-called friends here say I look like a gay sofa but I say I look avant garde and sexy.”

Harry’s mind has stalled at the word sexy.

“What do you think?”

“Hm?” Apparently Harry has forgotten how to speak. Words? What are words?

“My shirt, darling. My shirt,” he says slowly, voice like the golden twinkle of newborn stars, as he slides off his stool and smoothes the sheer material down over his generous curves. 

Harry’s breathing stalls and he thinks he forgets to breathe altogether as the boy turns and pops his hip out a little to show an arse that, quite frankly, makes Harry want to write poetry, sing songs, chant fucking  _ prayers _ to  _ heaven _ over. The water color blue and pink of the shirt shows every line and ridge of muscle of the boy’s back underneath it and Harry can see the edge of a pair of hot pink pants peeking out from under the waistband of his sinfully tight dark blue jeggings. 

“Well?” The boy is looking at Harry over his shoulder, hand on his hip and a wide grin on his pretty face. He looks like the cat that got the canary. With an ass like that he could look anyway he wants, as far as Harry’s concerned.

“Yeah...um…” Harry’s voice is an embarrassment. An utter embarrassment. He croaks, “It’s good.  _ Real _ good.”

And, oh  _ fuck _ . He sounds like a pervert. He’s sure he looks like one too, he can’t take his eyes off that fucking bum.

The boy wriggles his arse —  _ wriggles _ it — and laughs, turning back around to wink at Harry. He yells over his shoulder at his friends, seated at the table behind them (fuck –– there is a whole table of people staring at the interaction between Harry and this vixen of a man), never taking his eyes off of Harry, and says triumphantly, “See?”

Harry works his throat to swallow and his dick leaps in his pants. It’s really been a long time. A long ass time. And Harry thinks maybe, just maybe, his dry spell is about to end.

The boy thrusts his empty hand out, lifting his glass to his lips again, but not drinking. “Louis.”

Harry tears his eyes away from the boy’s mouth to his offered hand. As if in slow motion, he sticks his own hand out. “Um...Harry?”

“You sure about that?”

“Wha —?”

This boy, Louis, has done something to Harry’s brain.  

“Come on fashionista. Let’s go talk about my extremely forward sense of style — and my friends’ lack thereof.” The table behind them jeers loudly, but Louis ignores them. He curls his arm through Harry’s and Harry feels a little dizzy from the proximity. Louis smells citrusy and clean and he’s warm and his shirt is see through and Harry tries not to but he can see little perky nipples beneath the fabric and he wants to run a wet tongue over them just to feel the other boy squirm underneath him.

Yeah, clearly Louis is some kind of sorcerer.

Louis leads Harry to his original destination and they sit next to each other. Louis’ knees press into the side of Harry’s thigh and Harry is feeling the effects of his drink as he watches the man next to him slurp down the rest of his own. Louis waves a server over and orders two more gin and tonics and gives Harry another wide smile. His teeth glow white in the bar and Harry finds himself wondering what the hell is happening — his night has taken a suddenly very unexpected return.

“So, how do you feel about biker jackets?”

“B — biker jackets?”

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out, along with a few bills that he hands to the server who has just returned with two more cocktails. Louis thanks her as Harry tries to fumble for cash. “Your money’s no good here,” Louis quips, making Harry laugh out loud. Who is this man? He meets Harry cheese for cheese. And Harry thinks maybe he’s in love.

Louis is biting down on his bottom lip, twirling the long loose end of the bow on his paisley blouse, as his fingers fly over the screen. “Biker jackets,” he says and angles his phone toward Harry, showing a wide eyed Harry a screenful of gorgeous bare chested men in leather.  

“Biker jackets,” Harry murmurs, looking back up into Louis’ eyes. 

Yeah.  _ Love _ .  

****

“Fuck!” 

Harry feels like he can’t get enough air, there isn’t enough air. Where did all the oxygen go?

There is an impossibly hot, tight, wet suction around his aching cock and he wants to come, oh  _ god _ , he wants to come so fucking badly but he also doesn’t want the magic of this night to ever end.

Louis slides up his body and breathes, hot and heavy into his mouth, licking inside like he was just licking around the head of his leaking cock. “Taste so good — knew you would taste so good. The minute I saw you —” he moans as Harry grabs fistfuls of naked arse and yanks Louis roughly so that their unclothed dicks slide together. Jesus christ it’s so hot.

One thing had, unsurprisingly, led to another and Harry had dragged Louis from the club after they’d had several cocktails, a few sloppy grinding sessions that barely passed for dancing and then a couple of not exactly G-rated, for public viewing, kisses. Jeremy was all but forgotten as Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, “Come on...take me home. Want you to fuck me.”

Harry hadn’t wasted any time dragging Louis out of the club — the other boy shouting gleeful goodbyes to his friends — out into the cool, quiet night, into a cab, and up the stairs to Harry’s tiny flat. They’d ripped clothing off of each other and kissed like their lives depended on it. Once Harry tasted the sugar sweetness of Louis’ lips and felt the first slick slide of their torsos against one another — he was hooked. Like an addict, he needed more. Wanted more. Wanted everything.

So. Here they are. Harry’s dick had been in Louis’ mouth and Harry’s hand had been wrapped around Louis’ thick, heavy cock and now, now...Harry felt helpless with how much he wants to fuck Louis into next week. The other boy is sweaty and writhing against Harry like he just can’t stop himself and Harry’s fingers itch to crawl inside Louis and open him up wide and fast so he can just fucking get inside of him already.

“Fuck, Harry.  _ Jesus _ . So fucking hot.” Louis tears himself away from Harry’s mouth and bites down on the tender skin of his neck and  _ goddamnit _ . Harry has to squeeze his eyes tight just to keep from coming right there all over Louis’ firm abdomen, dripping over his hot skin, down his thick thigh — messing him up and making him as filthy as his mouth and, apparently, his intentions toward Harry tonight.  

Harry quickly turns Louis around and smashes him up against the wall and shoves his cock between Louis’ round, yielding cheeks. “Do you like this?” Harry whispers harshly against the other boys skin.  He pumps his hips so that his cock slips up and down through the sweat soaked line of his arse.  

“Y —  _ yes _ . God. Want it…”  Louis moans, deep and loud. Harry has a momentary thought about the lesbians that live next door, but they are pretty loud themselves sometimes so he pushes it out of his brain as Louis keeps right on panting, “want it rough. Wanna…” Harry grips the curve of Louis’ soft hips —  _ hard _ — and sucks at a spot on the other boy’s neck as he whines, “wanna feel you all day tomorrow... _ fuck _ !”

Harry pulls Louis away from the wall and practically throws him down onto the futon a few feet away.  Harry lives in a 600 foot studio and the only time Harry is glad for its small, small size is right now. Right now when it is imperative that no time be wasted with kissing and ambling down hallways or up stairs. What he wants to do is give Louis exactly what he wants.  _ Now _ . 

Harry crawls over Louis and nibbles up his inner thigh, watching in amusement as Louis’ cock leaps in the air, standing away from his body — a rich purple color at the head making Harry’s own cock ache in pure sympathy. They had gotten under each other’s skin so quick. The fast, furious way that they came together like the collision of molecules written in some foreign code, a kind of destiny that neither could have predicted, or stopped, if they tried. Even if they wanted to.

Harry’s hands are slick with lube in seconds and Louis is arching his back under Harry’s quick, efficient fingering.  Louis is  _ tight _ . Hot and wet and moaning like he can’t get enough. Like he’d never get enough.  

“Gonna feel so good, when I get inside you.” Harry praises the other boy, and he means it. He just knows it’s going to feel like heaven — like slipping into cool dark water with just enough heat and danger to make it the sort of thrilling that keeps you on edge, keeps you wanting more, more, more.

“ _ Harry _ ,” Louis whines, tossing his head back. Against the lilac colored sheets Louis’ looks like a porcelain doll.  If a doll were in a porno, that is. His chest is flushed and sweaty, nipples standing up, seeking attention, cords on his neck pronounced and his red mouth in a wide O.  _ God _ .  Harry wants to fuck him into next week. And then back again.

“Got you...fuck. Louis. Shit.” Harry spreads his fingers and watches Louis’ face carefully, not wanting to hurt him, but wanting to be quick about this. He’s not going to last much longer.

He pulls his fingers out when he can feel the gentle give of Louis’ body against his three fingers and reaches for the condom. Louis beats him to it and starts to rip open the package. It’s been ages since he’s had his tongue in the other boy’s mouth, though, so Harry surges forward to kiss the hell out of him, making sure he can feel exactly how hard he is for him, how much he wants him.

Louis kisses him back even as he slides the condom down Harry’s length with expert fingers and Harry shivers from it — the feeling of Louis’ nimble fingers shooting through him in swirls of color and magic that make him feel like he could sprout wings and fly right now. “Fuck…” he pants against the side of Louis’ mouth as they break away.

Louis looks up at him and for the first time all night, for the first time since their eyes connected in that loud, dark bar, Louis looks vulnerable. Open. His eyes are pleading, questioning.

“Louis?” 

“Go slow...um. It’s been awhile, yeah?”

“Yeah? Of course,” Harry whispers, cradling the back of Louis’ head with one hand, kissing the side of his mouth, the other hand braced on the mattress, holding himself up.  “You sure you want to do this?” He asks, totally fine with whatever Louis decides, just wanting more of him, anything the other boy is willing to give.

“Fuck, yes.” Louis moans dropping back to the pillows, spreading his legs wider. “You’re just really fucking huge, that’s all.” 

Harry grins and nods his head. “I can go slow.”

“Not too slow,” Louis chides.

“I can go just right,” Harry says solemnly.

An unspoken  _ something _ passes between them and Harry leans forward, pulling Louis’ legs up so that he can crook his elbows under his knees. Louis, ever accommodating, pushes his legs up so that they drape over Harry’s shoulders. And, fuck. That’s really fucking hot. Louis’ eyes sparkle in the dim light and he whispers, “Well, come on then. Show us what you’ve got.”

And that’s all Harry really needs, isn’t it?

He pushes inside Louis’ body slowly, the excruciating heat and pull of it like flying into the sun. It’s searing, completely and totally overwhelming, and Harry’s brain goes fuzzy-numb from it. Louis moans,  _ loud _ . It’s a pained wail that ends in a loud, guttural, “ _ fuck _ .”

Harry goes all the way in, because he can’t stop  _ now _ . Can’t stop with the delectable grip of Louis’ body surrounding him in this impossible way, making him see technicolor stars behind his vision, creating an almost psychedelic tremor in his bloodstream.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Louis whines, curling his hips in small movements, using his heels against Harry’s back as leverage.

Harry stills and waits. It feels like an eternity, every cell in his body screaming at him to just  _ take _ . To take and take and take and fuck and fuck and fuck. But he waits. He waits and shudders and holds himself still as the smaller, most beautiful boy he has ever seen, takes a moment to adjust, to just feel, to be completely joined with him.

“Move, move. Please, Harry.  _ Move _ ,” Louis cries out, eyes open and boring into Harry’s.

So Harry moves.

The first snap of his hips makes him want to cry. It’s so  _ good _ .  So, so good. The second snap actually makes him cry out in delirious pleasure and the third has him shaking so hard he can’t really tell if he’s coming or not because it all starts to just feel like heaven on earth and he can’t stop, needs to fuck into Louis forever if Louis would let him because he’s never,  _ never _ , had sex like this before.

Never this perfect. This hot. This indescribably good.

Louis seems to agree.

“Right there. Fuck,  _ Harry _ !”

Harry aims again, distracted enough now at helping Louis find his release that he staves off his own orgasm (even though his balls protest in agony). Louis groans and starts making these gorgeous sounds that Harry wants to record and listen to for the rest of eternity. 

“Feel…” Harry pumps his hips deep and hard, “so…” he hikes Louis’ slippery legs up higher, “fucking…” he snaps hard enough that he punches air from Louis’ lungs (ah-ah-ah-ah) “good…” 

And then Louis is coming.

Completely untouched, hard and thick, all up his own torso and the sight of it... 

Fucking hell, the sight of it makes tears spring to Harry’s eyes and he’s never cried during sex before, ever, but there’s a first for everything and he’s crying and chasing down his orgasm — his body loose and flying, fucking, fucking, harder, faster…

He comes with a shout and spills into the condom, staring down at Louis who moans and clenches around him which only makes Harry groan loud and deep and he struggles to stay upright but when Louis makes grabby hands at him he releases Louis’ legs and he falls on top of him and  _ god _ . It’s the best orgasm he’s ever had.

Louis wraps his legs and arms around Harry and they shudder in unison through the aftershocks. Louis turns Harry’s head toward him and he kisses him, sweet and tender and then whispers, “knew it would be like that.”

Harry leans up and looks into Louis’ eyes in wonder. “Like nothing else — no one else — wanna,” Louis explains, “wanna get to know you better.  Know you more.”

And Harry knows what he means. It’s true. In that moment Harry thinks that maybe Louis has ruined him for anyone else, that maybe this can’t be explained — how good it is, how inexplicable it feels. He wants to understand, thought — wants to know Louis more, see where this could go.  

Harry nods and kisses Louis quiet, kisses him until they are drowsy and just pressing wet lips together and humming small praises into each other’s mouths. He kisses him after he cleans them up and kisses Louis’ perfect, candy coated lips until they start to drift off, until he tells Louis to stay. Stay, stay, stay.

In the morning, while he makes a pot of tea, watching the pretty boy sleep in his bed, Harry checks his phone. He has a message from Jeremy.

J:  where’d you go? (frowning face emoji).

He quickly sends a message back.

H: thanks for ditching me. Best night of my life.

And then he deletes his number, crawling back into bed while the tea steeps and the sunlight sparks the beginning of a new day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love comments :) xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! xxo


End file.
